Lachlan chuckled, but then he relented and turned his attention to more passionate endeavours. He pressed his lips against his wife’s foot, before moving upwards to her ankle, her calf, her knee-lavishing every inch of her with kisses-just as he had promised.
“Please, Lachlan,” Muira panted. “I need you now!” she cried desperately.
“Where do you need me?” Lachlan asked innocently. Muira made a weak moan, as if to say his question didn’t deserve an answer.
Finally taking pity on her, Lachlan pushed his wife’s legs apart a little wider, staring with relish at the hungry little mouth of her sex. She was already swollen and pink, and dripping with her own delicious juices. Her husband licked his lips, and lowered his head.
Muira gave a little shriek as he kissed her there. It had to be wrong to feel this good. She exhaled shakily and then tilted her hips a little, giving Lachlan better access to her sex.
Muira knotted her fingers in his hair as the greedy rasp of Lachlan’s tongue drove her ever closer to the edge. She tried tugging him closer as he suckling ravenously on her clit. She could feel her muscles beginning to bunch, and knew that with one more flick, one last nip, she would shatter into pieces… So it was with an irate scream that Muria reacted when Lachlan pulled back.
“I’m going to be inside you when you come,” Lachlan rasped, his voice anything but steady.
Muira’s eyes widen appreciatively, and she moaned with relief when her husband finally nudged the huge head of his cock up against the opening of her cunt.
“I love you,” Lachlan swore, one last time before he moved, entering Muira so fiercely that he hilted himself inside her body in one hard thrust.
Lachlan was so large that there was always a tingle of pain mingled with the pleasure as Muria’s body enthusiastically strained to accommodated the thick girth of his sex. But they both groaned in unison at the intense searing rightness of having their bodies fused in the most primal way known to man.
Lachlan stilled inside her, and Muira whimpered desperately for him to move. She didn’t know how he was able to retain such tight control. If their positions had been reversed, if she had been allowed to ride him, then she never would have been able to contain her insatiable lust for his body.
“Move,” she panted, almost weeping with relief when Lachlan obeyed her plea.
He moved slowly though, making deep, heavy plunges into her body, which created such sizzling fraction as to leave Muria breathless and open-mouthed. It felt incredible. She was beginning to understand to what a precipice Lachlan was steadily working them towards. When they broke it was going to be incredible.
“I love you,” Lachlan groaned, driving so deep that Muira almost feared she would be torn apart. He swore the declaration with every thrust of his hips, branding Muira with the vow every time his cock slid into her sheath. It was almost as if, now that he had let the words fly. he couldn’t hold them back, and they touched Muira as deeply as his physical caresses.
“I love you too,” Muira gasped, whenever she was unable, which was becoming a less and less frequent occurrence. It was almost impossible for her to make a coherent sound; her body was such a knotted tangle of raw desire.
“Muira-” Lachlan grunted.
He was so close to breaking. Muira breathlessly forced her eyes to open. Her husband’s jaw was clenched, and the tendons in his neck were straining. He was trying so desperately to make sure she had her pleasure first, Muria realised hazily… and heart clenched with love for this man. She twisted and rolled her hips, clenched her muscles around the thick rod of his cock, trying to tease him to break, to give him his pleasure.
“Muira,” he groaned again in warning. “I want-I’m going to come,” he rasped, his body shaking.
“I want you to. I want to feel you come inside me,” Muira panted wantonly, clutching at Lachlan’s broad shoulders, wrapping her legs around him to urge him deeper. “That’s how you made me pregnant,” she whispered thickly, shivering with delight when she felt him shudder, and then his thrusts begin to quicken.
“Oh God, Muira,” Lachlan panted. He slipped a hand between their bodies; the extra little touch was all that his wife needed to snap the thin thread of her composure.
She screamed as her body began to shake with release. Bubbles of pleasure fizzed through her blood like water finally boiling on a stove. Muira bit her lip as her body jerked more violently than she could remember doing before, while ecstasy blinded her, leaving her in a world of white-hot bliss. She was only dimly aware of her husband, so enfolded as she was by her own pleasure. But she heard, as if from a great distance, his animalistic growl of climax, and she felt he searing heat of his seed as he spilled himself inside her.
Still shivering and shaking, Muira willingly accepted the heavy weight of her husband body when he collapsed on top of her. They were both damp with sweat, and neither of them was yet able to catch their breath. They lay in a tangled breathless heap for several long minutes-unable, and strangely unwilling, to break the silence that lingered between them.
Muira almost feared that by speaking she might wake herself from this glorious dream. Happily, on that score, she had nothing to worry about; Lachlan had no intention of given up this state of bliss.
“You’re amazing,” he murmured, his voice still husky with sex. He eased a little of his weight off his wife. Muira gave a little whimper of protest as he withdrew from her, but Lachlan was very mindful not to crush her. “I still can’t believe you’re really mine,” he continued reverently. Muira’s already flushed skin began to glow.
“Truly?” she whispered, but she finally believed him. “You-you really do love me?” she asked breathlessly. Lachlan had said that he did so many times during their lovemaking, but Muira didn’t think that she would ever tire of hearing him make the declaration.
“Aye, lass,” he chuckled, and was apparently amused by the way she’d fished for one last murmur of confirmation. “I really love you,” he declared ardently, his eyes glinting with the truth of his words. He kissed her soundly, distilling the sentiment in to a tangible touch.
“And I suppose that means you can’t really be angry about the way we… married, any more?” she pressed; she was panting slightly from the very thorough kiss that her husband had just demanded. He laughed loudly at this new question.
“I haven’t been angry about that for a good long while, lass,” he grinned. He shifted, so that he was lying on his back and Muira was clasped tightly against his chest, and yawned, giving a great show of satisfied contentment as he settle back against the pillows. “I don’t suppose I could have found a more suitable wife if I’d chosen her myself,” he teased.
Muira gave his arm a playful thump. “That’s a terrible thing to say!” she exclaimed, looking deliberately offended.
“A more charming wife?” Lachlan amended, casting Muira a lopsided grin. His wife stuck her tongue out at him in return.
“That wasn’t the terrible part,” Muira sniffed, fearing that she might actually be only half teasing him.
“Oh?” Lachlan cocked an eyebrow. He seemed to take a moment to think back over what he’d said. After a moments pause, he whispered huskily: “I choose you now.”
“Oh!” Muira couldn’t help but gasp, nor could she help from beaming like a simpleton. “I-well- good,” she mumbled foolishly, feeling the chuckles that rippled through Lachlan’s powerful body at her reaction.
“You’re such a treasure,” he murmured thickly, but couldn’t hold back another yawn. Muira popped a kiss against his throat and snuggled down to sleep. He was quite a treasure himself…
Muira slept soundly, or at least she did until the very early hours of the morning, when her rumbling stomach woke her up. She tried to ignore her hunger, wriggling closer to husband as she tried to snuggle back down to sleep. However, she had missed supper the night before, and now she was absolutely starving.
Muira carefully disentangled herself from her husband’s slumbering bo
dy, being very careful not to disturb him. If she could just creep down to the kitchens, she was sure that no one would mind if she helped herself to a hunk of bread and chunk of cheese, just to tide her over until morning. She didn’t want to cause a fuss and wake any of the servants.
So, Muira dressed quickly, in a simply, plain dress that she could don herself and then made for the door. She cast a loving look over her shoulder at her husband before slipping out into the hall. The bright moonlight bathed his naked limbs in a watery glow, urging Muira to linger. He was such a very exquisite specimen of a man.
Muira was almost induced to creep back to be and rouse him… but then her stomach gave another embarrassing gurgle, and so she grabbed a candle and darted quickly from the room. The corridors were deserted, just as Muira had expected, and hoped. She didn’t fancy meeting anyone lurking around the castle at such an hour. She didn’t imagine that they could be up to any good…
“Oh rubbish,” she scolded herself quietly. Cait had got her reading too many books! She was clearly letting her imagination run away with her. After all, she was out and about wandering the castle, and she certainly wasn’t up to anything sinister!
Feeling a little of her silly, childish, uneasy lessen, Muira continued on her way to the castle kitchen. She had never been there before, so it took a little longer to reach her destination than she had expected. Muira just hoped Lachlan wouldn’t wake and find her gone. Lord knows what he’d think!
She looked around the large castle kitchen, quickly finding a little side pantry where they was some bread and cheese, and half a cold chicken. Muira took as much as she thought she could dare without the food being missed. She piled a plate, stealing a few quick bites of food, before intending to carry her spoils back up to her bedroom… except Muira suddenly heard footsteps.
She wasn’t sure what induced her to do it – she wasn’t doing anything wrong after all, but Muira quickly snuffed her candle, grabbed her plate and hid herself inside a large cupboard where the castle pewter appeared to be kept.
The footsteps drew nearer… not the light tread of a maid send to fetch something for their master or mistress, but the heavy tread of a man. Muira shrank back against the shelves, as the sound grew louder, she couldn’t see out into the pantry, but that seemed to be where the man was now.
Muira’s heart was beating so loudly that she feared it might give her away! She listened as he shuffled around, praying that he wouldn’t come to the cupboard, and then she gasped – a sound clearly audible – when she heard the man curse in a terrifyingly familiar voice.
It was Tavish!
And she was certain that he must have heard her! Muira clapped a hand over her mouth and felt an icy trickle of fear run down her spine. She held her breath, not even daring to breath, as Tavish went very quiet on the other side of the door. He was clearly now moving without trying to make a sound. Muira could just picture him, bending low to look under the table, looking behind the large kitchen door, drawing ever closer to her hiding place…
Muira was shaking, almost certain that Tavish was so close on the other side of the thin cupboard door that she could smell the heavy masculine scent of his skin, and then… there was the sound of scurrying as something was overturned and Tavish began cursing again.
“A rat! A damn filthy rat! Stinking MacRaes!” Tavish continued muttering darkly, but Muira hardly heard the rest of what he said. She sagged with relief and just prayed that Tavish would leave soon!
He didn’t. He lingered for what felt like hours. Muira’s muscles began to spasm and cramp in protest of the strange position in which she had contorted herself. She hoped that Lachlan might come and find her, she didn’t care if he was angry; she was still simply terrified of being discovered by Tavish!
And what was he doing down in the kitchens anyway? Muira was convinced that whatever it was, it couldn’t be anything innocent! She wished she’d hidden somewhere where she might have been able to see what he was up to…
Eventually, just as a clock somewhere began to chime four, Tavish finished whatever it was that he had been doing and left the pantry and castle kitchens. Muira almost wept with reveal – she was all right – her baby was all right! Still, she waited several long minutes before creeping slowly from her hiding place. She tiptoed out of the kitchen, expecting large, cruel hands to grip her at any moment and subject her to Tavish’s depraved will.
When nothing happened, Muira began to move more quickly, so that by the time she reached the chambers that she shared with her husband she was running at a full sprint.
Lachlan instantly jerked awake at the sound of his wife barrelling through the door, and grunted something sleepily and puzzled that she couldn’t understand, then yawned, and murmured: “hungry?”
Muira blinked, she hadn’t even realised that she was still carrying the plate of food in one hand, and her extinguished candle in the other.
“Lachlan, I’ve just been down to the kitchens!” she blurted, putting the plate and candlestick down impatiently.
“So I can I see,” Lachlan yawned again, grinning slightly.
“No, no, you don’t!” she said, panicked. “Tavish was there!” she cried.
“What?!” he roared, leaping out of bed. It Lachlan had been half-asleep before then he was wide-awake now. “What did he do to you?” he demanded, looking stricken.
“Nothing-”
“Muira!”
“I-I hid in a cupboard,” she confessed, feeling a little embarrassed. The way that Lachlan’s whole body instantly sagged was deeply touching however. He dragged her into his arms and crushed her against his naked body.
“Thank God,” he groaned, and then pulled back slightly. “What the hell were you doing alone down in the kitchens at this time of night anyway?!” he bellowed.
“I was hungry,” Muira winced, and then said quickly, before Lachlan could shout again: “the point is, what was Tavish doing down there?”
Lachlan frowned. “The same as you I would imagine. Finding himself a midnight snack?” he shrugged, and then grimaced. “Probably after despoiling a maid or two on his way-damn him! I’ll-”
“No!” Muira interrupted urgently. “He was up to something, Lachlan!” she pressed desperately, but to her dismay her husband didn’t look entirely convinced.
“Up to what?” he asked. “What did you see him do?” he demanded.
“Well, I-I didn’t exactly see him do anything,” Muira confessed reluctantly, hating the way that Lachlan raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘I told you so.’ “But I know that he was up to no good!”
“Muira-” Lachlan sighed.
“Lachlan you-you know what kind of a man Tavish is,” Muira croaked. “You know what he-what he tried to d-do to me,” she stammered tearfully. She couldn’t believe that he wasn’t taking her concerns seriously! “Please,” she whispered, as she was bundled up tight against Lachlan’s chest. “You have to believe me, you have to do something.”
“Do what though, lass?” Lachlan sighed heavily. “I know that Tavish scares you. It damn well terrifies me to think that you were down there with him alone!” he couldn’t stop himself from cursing. “But-” Lachlan forced himself to take a deep calming birth. “I can’t very well throw him out of the castle for wandering down to the kitchens, lass. No matter how much I might like to.”
“But Lachlan-” Muira gasped.
“You didn’t see anything?” he pressed.
His wife shook her head miserably. “We could go back down and have a look around now though?” she said hopefully.
“I’ll go down and look around,” Lachlan grunted, leaving Muira and reaching for his discarded clothes.
“I’m going too!” Muira declared stubbornly. When her husband opened his mouth to argue she quickly pointed out that he wouldn’t know where to look without her.
“Fine,” Lachlan growled, pulling his shirt on over his head. “But no more running off on your own!”
..ooOOoo..
; “Muira, there’s nothing here,” Lachlan yawned. He was expecting the kitchens to be swarmed be servants at any moment, and he didn’t particularly want to be caught snooping through the crockery.
“There’s something here,” Muira argued stubbornly. “Something that we’re missing,” she insisted, but for the life of her she didn’t know what. There was very little in the pantry after all: a few leftover scraps of food, some salt and spices used for seasoning, and various pots and pans.
“Can we please go back to bed?” Lachlan yawned wearily.
“No, I-”
“We’re going back to bed,” Lachlan grunted. He caught hold of his wife’s wrist, too tired to continue his attempts at diplomacy, and physically dragged her out of the kitchens.
“I know he did something!” Muira snapped, and was still snapping when Lachlan pulled her back into their bedroom.
“I’ll speak to him in the morning,” Lachlan finally conceded, falling into bed without bothering to undress. He didn’t imagine ‘speaking’ to MacEantach would be a very enlightening experience, but he was ready to say anything to get a moments peace so that he could go back to sleep…
Lachlan wasn’t allowed to sleep for nearly long enough as far as he was concerned. A loud commotion woke him soon after breakfast that morning…
He wondered how long he could ignore the ruckus. The answer was apparently - not long at all, given the series of heavy booming knocks that sounded on his door.
Lachlan growled his frustration, and then bellowed for the knocker to enter. Muira was sitting beside him, the sheets held up under her chin, her eyes wide and worried. The MacRae’s captain burst into the room. He looked pale and extremely anxious.
“What’s happened?” Lachlan asked instantly, quickly getting out of bed as he spoke.
“Sir, half the castle has been taken ill with some nasty kind of food poisoning.”
“Food poisoning?” Lachlan echoed. He heard Muira gasp sharply behind him, as he quickly began to dress.
“Aye, sir,” the Captain nodded gravely. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then plunged on. “Sir, Laird MacRae’s been taken very ill.”
A Beautiful Lie (The Camaraes) Page 31