My Fair Highlander

by Mary Wine

  “Me cock?”

  “Exactly.” Jemma slapped her hands on her skirts and turned her back on him. She knew it was a mistake almost before the fabric of her skirts stopped moving. Gordon was not a man who would respect her dismissal of him. His arms closed around her in the next moment before she had the chance to correct her misjudgment. He pulled her against his larger body, trapping her arms against her sides just as he had last night, only now she knew how much she enjoyed being held against him and her body rippled with delight.

  “Now, sweet Jemma, where did ye get the notion that I’d tuck me tail and retreat just because ye turned yer back on me?”

  He tilted his head, the warmth of his breath brushing the side of her face as his words filled her ears. His tone was low and dark, tempting her with all the things her body craved. The moment seemed perfect for it, and no one appeared to think she should do anything but surrender.

  “It was a poor choice, I agree.” She jerked against his hold, only to gain a chuckle from him. His arms were crossed over the front of her, and his hands began to rub along her arms. It was a delightful motion, one that sent enjoyment racing through her.

  “I don’t. ’Tis a fact that I like the result full well.”

  He pressed a kiss against the side of her neck and then a second one. A soft gasp escaped her lips, drawing a sound of male approval from him. She was pressed so close that she felt the sound vibrate inside his chest.

  “I simply forgot that you do not respect me.” Jemma forced her voice to sound prim when her thoughts were torrid.

  He lifted his head away from her neck, and she felt frustration claw its way across her skin. Her body protested her desire to argue with him when submission felt so much better.

  “Ye have that wrong, lass.” He scooped her up and off her feet, cradling her against his chest for a moment while he crossed the distance to the bed. She stiffened when she realized that was his destination, but he tossed her onto it once more and stood over her while she bounced.

  “If I held no respect for ye, I assure ye the kiss I claimed from ye last night would have gone much deeper. But I can see that ye are still distrusting of me.”

  “Of course I am, why do you expect different? I am not some meek little girl who will do as she is told with a lowering of my head. If that is what you crave, I am not it.”

  When she raised her head to glare at him, she felt a prickle of fear cross her mind. Her words were not annoying him. It looked as though he was hearing exactly what he craved. This was the man she had witnessed striding through the hall that morning. There was nothing teasing about his expression and no hint of any will except his own. His eyes were lit with anticipation.

  “I do admire yer spirit, Jemma, and that is a compliment that I do nae give to many men, much less women. ’Tis a fact that I believe ye would have mounted that mare and set out without bending to the fact that danger lies beyond the walls of this castle. There is much to be said for that courage. ’Tis no often found in women and it is one of the reasons that I rode out and gained that permission from yer brother to keep ye.”

  “Your compliments are not gaining you any of my favor.”

  He chuckled, but it was not a warm sound. Instead it warned her that he was contemplating a new strategy for gaining what he wanted from her. There was a challenge shimmering in his eyes, and her insides tightened because she realized that he considered her something worthy of his time.

  “I believe ye do like hearing that I admire the steel in yer spine, lass.” His lips pressed into a line that reminded her of the hunger she’d witnessed on his face last night.

  “I think there is a part of ye that enjoys it very much, because that part of ye is no interested in any man that ye can run off with a few barbed comments. Admit it, Jemma, ye are too proud to allow anyone to court ye who does not stand up to ye.”

  She quivered, his words striking her as true, but she pressed her lips together to seal any hint of that admission inside her.

  Gordon blew out a short breath in response. It was a tiny sound, but one she had to hold steady to resist flinching from. All her senses were attuned to him. She noticed the way that his nostrils flared and the manner in which his fingers moved where they were lying on his thick biceps. Her heart increased its pace, and her hearing seemed to become keener. Everything about him, her mind drank in.

  His gaze swept her from head to toe, studying her and missing not a single detail. “So something will have to be done to keep ye where I put ye during the day, because I’ve lands to see to and I’d prefer no to chase ye or to worry that ye are in the grip of danger again.”

  “You have already told me that my brother approves of me being here. That means I have nowhere to go.” She couldn’t conceal the emotion that edged her words, and that made her angry for she would not whine to him for comfort. She refused to whine to anyone. She would console herself; she’d been doing so for the past few years and now would be no different.

  His eyes narrowed. “I never meant to hurt yer feelings, lass, and be sure that yer brother was nae an easy man to bring around to my way of thinking. I hear the hurt in yer voice, but I’ll nae be trusting that to keep ye down past the morning. Ye have too much spirit.”

  His attention lowered to one foot that was sticking out past the hem of her dress. “I’ll be having those boots.”

  “You will not.”

  His eyebrows arched as challenge lit his eyes again. “Well now, lass, are ye sure ye want to make another choice about gambling on whether or not I’ll do what I please in spite of yer denial?”

  Jemma pulled her leg back but felt every muscle tighten in her body. Her courage rose, refusing to allow her to submit.

  “You shall simply have to deal with a little uncertainty, just as I seem to be forced to endure this agreement between you and my brother.”

  “It seems that the first thing ye will learn during our courting, lass, is that I never leave anything to chance. I’d be a dead man if I did.”

  The bed rocked, drawing a shriek from Jemma, but it wasn’t a fearful one. The need to resist erupted in a flurry of motion that refused to be controlled. Gordon reached for her foot, his hands sliding beneath her skirts, and she launched herself at him, shoving his shoulders with every bit of strength she possessed.

  The man landed on his backside at the foot of the bed. He lifted a surprised look toward her that sent victory surging through her.

  “I told you no!”

  He rose up, looking larger and more muscular than she’d noticed before. Determination shone brightly from his eyes, and his hands planted themselves on the edge of the bed, each fingertip pushing the soft surface in.

  “And I want yer boots, lassie, and what a Scot wants, he takes.”

  This time he pounced on her. His huge body sprung off the floor, cutting through the air before he pushed her down onto the surface of the bed. Jemma flung her arms up to resist, slapping at him, but he rolled her over onto her belly to trap her arms again.

  “Ye are definitely a wildcat, Jemma Ramsden. Are ye sure yer mother did nae take ye in, because I’d swear ye had Scottish blood flowing through yer veins.”

  “I’m English, you troll! English! Do you hear me? Go and find yourself some Scots girl who likes this manner of rough wooing, for I detest it.”

  A hard hand landed on her bottom in response. The breath rushed out of her chest as outrage filled her. She shook with her rage, bucking against the hold he had on her.

  “I heard ye sure enough, and most likely half the maids in the kitchen, too. Ye need taming.” He slapped her bottom once again before flipping her skirt up to find her foot. He gripped one and began pulling the leather lace loose that held the buttons closed.

  Gordon having both hands on one foot allowed her to roll over and kick at him with her other foot. She planted one kick solidly on the back of his head, breaking his grip on her foot.

  “I do not need taming! You need to learn some manners. Thi
s is not courting.” She tried to roll over the edge of the bed, but a hard arm hooked around her waist and lifted her up. Gordon dropped her back in the middle of the bed and pushed her thighs wide apart. He shoved his back against her spread body and leaned his weight down on top of her belly and chest.

  “It’s my form of courting, lass, so ye’d best do some better planning if ye intend to outfox me.”

  Her eyes widened as she stared at the canopy above the bed. Shock held her in its grip because she was indeed on her back and spread wide with a man between her thighs. He pressed his lower back against her mons and belly to keep her pinned. She’d never had anyone touch her in so private a place before, and even his back sent a pulse of awareness through her. Her face flamed but her pride refused to give up the battle. Gordon yanked the lace free and pulled one boot off her foot. He held it up for a moment like a prize.

  “A bare foot will nae find the stable floor such an easy place to travel.”

  Jemma reached forward and grabbed his bonnet. One yank tore the thing off his head, gaining a snarl from him. “A bare head will not care for the cold weather, either.”

  “I should have spanked yer arse a few more times.”

  He flipped over and caught her hands. With ridiculous ease he pressed her arms down on either side of her head.

  “But I find that I like this sight of ye beneath me too much to turn ye over.”

  She bucked, trying to dislodge his weight, but all the motion did was compress the pleats of his kilt against her spread sex. She gasped and froze, because sensation rushed up her passage and into her from the contact. Her skirts were raised, and there was nothing but the thin linen of her chemise shielding the opening to her body. It would be too simple for him to take her. But the worst part of it was how much her body seemed to enjoy the contact; her clitoris was throbbing, eager for him to move against her again.

  “I won’t wed with you, even if you rape me.” She was frightened, more so than she cared to admit. It was a deeper emotion than the one that had filled her while facing down the English knights. She didn’t want Gordon to value her so lowly that he would force himself on her, and she didn’t want him to try for fear that she would yield.

  But she had no reason to hope for such mercy.

  “If that was my thinking, I’d have done it the first night ye were here so that I could face yer brother with the fact that yer virgin’s blood had stained my sheets already. There would have been no reason to walk away from ye last night, either. I could have saved myself the torment of craving ye most of the night.”

  His hands released her wrists and pulled the linen cap off her head. He jerked the tie off the end of her braid and ran his fingers through the strands to free them. He didn’t jerk his hands through her hair, but combed the remains of the braid out with careful stokes that didn’t pull her scalp even once. His control over his strength astounded her, but it also touched her with a sense of tenderness.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Jemma could have bitten her tongue in half, but she could not take the words back. Gordon finished freeing her hair and lifted a hand full of it. He buried his face in it, inhaling the scent, which brought to mind how tender he had been with her last night. There were extremes inside the man, much like herself.

  “Because I plan to court ye, just as I told ye.” He raised his face away from her hair, and his expression lacked the mocking arrogance she had seen so often on it. Now his blue eyes were filled with something deeper, something that sparked hope in her that he wanted more than her fertile body for his seed.

  “I’ve been watching ye race that mare across the edge of my land for months. Every damn person wearing me colors knows that I’ve turned me back on things that I should have been doing to go up there and catch a glimpse of ye. So when yer brother’s bride made her way onto my land, it was too tempting to bring her here so that I might negotiate with yer brother for the chance to discover who ye are.”

  “But all we do is fight.”

  He growled softly and covered her lips with one of his hands. “Nay, lass, there is something else that we do very well, too. Kiss, and I’m wanting to discover just how far that passion runs in ye.”

  He lifted his hand away from her mouth and pressed his lips against hers. It was the kiss that she had been longing for since the last one they had shared. This time he didn’t tease her but took her mouth with a hungry motion that pressed his lips against her with enough pressure to force the breath from her. Something about his strength drew her closer to him, and enjoyment blossomed inside her. She wanted to move with him, mimic his motions and learn the skill of kissing.

  “That’s right, lass, kiss me back.” His voice was deep and hungry. His hands pushed into her freed hair to hold the sides of her face steady. The tip of his tongue swept along her lower lip before gently probing her open mouth for entry. She shivered, her body pulsing with needs that raced across her mind too quickly to be sorted into any manner of understanding. She could only experience them and bask in the delight trying to drown her. But she craved more, needing to touch him in return instead of waiting for him to decide where to stroke her. Hunger made her bold.

  She sent her own hands up into his hair. It was soft and silky against her fingers, bringing another form of bliss to her senses. But she craved his hardness, her hands seeking out his shoulders and the hard muscles that covered them. His tongue speared down into her mouth, sliding along her own, and her passage suddenly became the point of focus for all the desire coursing through her. At the top of her sex, her clitoris began to throb with the same tempo as her racing heart. Her body was too full of needs to remain still. Her hips lifted, seeking out more pressure against that throbbing point.

  “Exactly, lass. We seem to please each other when we stop talking.”

  He leaned down to press a soft kiss against the swell of one breast where it was uncovered above the top of her dress. She jerked, too overwhelmed by the amount of sensation to contain the response. His fingers followed, smoothing over the tender flesh before delving into the valley created between her breasts by her stays. The hooks that kept her bodice closed took him little time to open. He pushed the wool aside to leave her corset open to his gaze. He found the tie that held the front of her stays together and released the knot with a quick motion of his fingers.

  “I want to know what ye look like, lass. The idea has haunted me.”

  She should tell him to stop. Her mind told her to forbid him to continue unlacing her bodice, but her body demanded that she remain silent.

  “We bring out the extremes in one another.”

  His fingers froze for a moment and his eyes flashed with hunger. “Aye, lass, we do. Just think of how much better it might become.”

  He pulled the sides of her stays apart. She shivered when the air brushed across her breasts with naught but thin linen covering them.

  “I wouldn’t know.” And she lost the battle to remain still, her hands coming up to cover her chest. She really couldn’t stop him from doing what he pleased with her, but there was a part of her that trusted him not to force himself on her. She wasn’t even sure where that idea had come from, only that she could not see the man who had taken the time to smell her hair as a savage who would take her innocence by force.

  It was a fragile trust, but one that made it possible to fend off the fear that was trying to steal into her mind.

  “Trust that I know that, lass.”

  “I’m trying to.” Her voice became a whisper. There was no way to hide her uncertainty. But approval flickered in his eyes, giving her enough confidence to continue staring at him.

  Trust him? She chewed on that thought.

  He leaned down and kissed first her right hand where it cupped one breast. Beneath her palm her nipple was hard and aching for its turn to discover what a kiss felt like against its peak. But Gordon moved to her other hand to allow his lips to linger on it. He moved lower to where her chest rose and fell with her bre
athing. Another kiss landed on her belly, the warmth of his mouth easily making its way through the fabric of her chemise to her skin. Sensation ripped through her, drawing a sound of delight from her lips. But it also raced down to her passage where hunger renewed its grip on her.

  Gordon nuzzled against her chest, kissing and moving upward until he gently dislodged her hands with his head. Once again her fingers were in his hair, and he turned to tease the side of one breast with his lips. She quivered, anticipation drawing her muscles tight. She had never been so aware of her nipples. The soft pink tips were alive with need so hot, her chemise felt heavy and suffocating. Gordon slid one hand up her body, crossing over her ribs, and then cupped the soft mound of her breast before his lips took command of her nipple.

  She arched up off the bed, unable to remain still. There was too much heat, too much sensation to endure. A thin cry escaped her lips, and she heard an answering growl from him that made her fingers curl into fists in his hair. The fabric of her chemise became wet, sticking to the hard point of her nipple. Gordon licked over it, teasing the sensitive point through the fabric before reaching up to grab the neckline of the garment and pulling it down to expose her flesh completely.

  “So sweet, lass. Like summer berries.” He lifted his head and watched her face while his thumb glided over the wet tip of her nipple for the first time with nothing between their skin. “That’s a favorite thing of mine, summer berries. Something that I enjoy feasting on.”

  His voice dipped down until it became husky. His eyes darkened, but she gained only a momentary glimpse of them before he returned to her exposed breast. She felt his breath passing over the wet skin of her nipple, rippling across skin a hundred times more sensitive than she could ever recall it being. His hand gently closed around the soft mound of her breast, pushing the hard tip upward in offering. Gordon took that tempting morsel between his lips, sucking the entire nipple into his mouth while Jemma gasped with shock.

  It felt too good. Pleasure surged through her, wiping away any doubts that still lingered. Her hands slid down to his back where they might press him toward her. His tongue flicked over the tip of her nipple, back and forth while he continued to suck on it. She arched up, her back joining the effort to make sure he knew she wanted him to continue. She was suddenly too hot with the wool of her skirts and his kilt between them. Her fingers plucked at the fabric of his shirt but couldn’t pull it down so that his warm skin might be hers to touch. He slid one arm beneath her waist and pulled her tightly against his body before rolling over onto his back. The bed shook, and Jemma ended up straddling him with her knees sinking down on either side of his hips. He gently pushed her up so that she sat upright, and that pressed her body weight down on her open sex and the little bead of her clitoris.