Return of the Scot: The Scots of Honor Series

by Knight, Eliza

  A cloud fell over the older woman’s face, and Jaime had the extreme desire to run away—and quickly.

  “Oh, Mrs. Blair, no need to fash.” Lorne gave the housekeeper the same smile he’d used on her a time or two in hope of swaying her to his cause. “There has been a misunderstanding. And my fiancée has given me back the castle, and I, in turn, will bequeath it to her and any daughters born of our union.”

  Mungo came around the duke and put his arm comfortingly around Mrs. Blair’s shoulders. “The lad is quite infatuated, and if I may be plain, the sentiment seems to be mutual.”

  “Indeed it is,” Alison muttered behind them.

  Jaime needed to make amends with the servants here at Dunrobin if she didn’t want to be hiding in her wardrobe for the rest of her life. Shanna’s letter dismissing them all in Jaime’s name had marked her as a tyrant, and she couldn’t let that be the way they saw her.

  Out from under Lorne’s arm, she stepped forward and walked toward the housekeeper and other castle servants. Though it was difficult, she forced a smile on her face that she prayed held no trace of her nerves.

  “I must apologize for what has transpired. Of course, I never knew the duke would come back, as I suspect none of ye did. And it was never my intention to cast anyone out. The letter ye received giving warning of such was no’ sent by me at all—ye’re all as welcome as ye’ve been for generations. I want nothing more than to make your duke happy.”

  She thought it too soon to tell them that she was also a shipping magnate. They wouldn’t understand it, just as most people didn’t when they realized that it was her in charge of the business, hence the reason she often signed initial correspondence J. Andrewson. No one ever suspected she was a woman.

  “And I want nothing but my future duchess’s happiness.” Lorne was beside her again, his hand slipping into hers. He glanced down at her. “And we need your help. All of ye. There’s been a lot of trickery afoot, which is why we came from Edinburgh by ship to arrive as fast as we could. If ye could all assemble in the great hall, I want to tell ye of what’s to come.”

  “Aye, Your Grace.” The servants bowed and nodded, spreading into two lines that he led Jaime through, with the others taking up the rear.

  Inside the castle, Jaime stilled at the grandeur. If she’d thought his house in Edinburgh was exquisite, this castle made Sutherland Gate look like a simple croft.

  And now it was her home—nay, their home.

  * * *

  Husband.

  Jaime stared in wonder at the man who was not but a few feet away from her, undoing the ties of his cravat and then the buttons of his shirt. Only this afternoon, they’d found themselves in a similar position, unmarried.

  And a swift exchange of vows on the Sutherland kirk steps several hours ago had changed that.

  It was all a whirl now. Saying “I do,” the chaste kiss, sweeping into the dining hall where a feast was served, the divine wine. And now, here they were in the chamber they’d share as husband and wife.

  And Lorne was undressing.

  He’d shooed away Mungo and Alison, who’d both wanted to help prepare the bride and groom for bed. Lorne had said he wanted to do it himself.

  Undress her.

  In the flickering candlelight, his skin glowed golden as inch by inch was revealed. Butterflies danced in her belly as she watched. He tugged the unbuttoned shirt over his head, revealing a sprinkling of dark hair that traveled in an arrow pattern down into his breeches.

  Lorne didn’t move to unbutton his breeches, which was quite disappointing. But she didn’t have long to think about it as he came forward, his hands fanning the sides of her face. His touch was warm, a little coarse, but positively heaven-sent.

  “Ye have to stop looking at me like this, or all I’ve got planned will be tossed out the window,” he said.

  “What have ye planned? And how am I looking?” Her face heated, and she licked her lips, nervous and excited all at once. Flashes of their amatory encounter in her garden had her nipples puckering and the place between her legs tingling in anticipation. The way he’d felt lying on top of her on the ship… All the delicious sensations that coursed through her.

  “Ye look like ye want to lick me from head to toe.”

  “Oh…” And she did want to, now that he’d put that thought into her head. It sounded like a very good idea.

  “And, the things I have planned... I’ll start with a kiss.” He brushed his mouth on hers, his hands smoothing down her back as he did so to clasp her bottom.

  She loved the solid feel of him, the possessive way he touched her. How every part of her was jealous of wherever his hands happened to be. Jaime put her arms around his shoulders, playing with his hair for only a moment, before sliding over the wide, muscular expanse of his bare back. There were scars on the left side, a continuation of those on his arm and chest. But the rest was smooth and rippling with strength.

  He deepened the kiss, his tongue caressing over hers, and she clutched on to him, acutely aware that she could kiss him like this for the rest of her days, and no one could say anything about it.

  A moment later, chilled air touched her back, replaced by warm hands she wished were on her skin; alas, her chemise was still in the way. While she’d been distracted by the feel of his spine, his kiss, Lorne had undone every button of her gown. He’d plucked at the ribbons that Alison had fussed over putting in place. He smoothed the fabric down her arms, her hips, her thighs until every bit pooled at her feet, and all the while his mouth never left hers. Teasing little licks and strokes. A nibble of her lips, a soft groan from deep in his throat when she mimicked him. She was becoming quite adept at this kissing thing, she was certain. And, did she enjoy it.

  “Ye do no’ wear a corset?” he whispered.

  “I hate them.” Instead, her chemise had a ribbon tied beneath her bosom for enhancement, which she reached for now.

  “Nay, let me.” His fingers swept hers as he pinched the ribbon and pulled it until it loosened. He cupped her breasts through the fabric, his thumbs brushing over her nipples which peaked in response. With a satisfied grin, he leaned down and nuzzled her breasts until she squirmed, wanting more, but he only teased her. Then he was grazing his mouth over the swells of her bare breasts where they peeked from the top of the fabric, and her neck, then her mouth again. His hands rounded over her bottom, tugging her close. With her gown gone, the hardness of his arousal pressed more noticeably to her belly, and she inched closer, wanting to feel more.

  Lorne’s fingers bunched her chemise up around her thighs, and then he broke the kiss to tug it overhead, leaving her standing in her stockings and garters.

  “Ye are exquisite,” he murmured, his gaze raking down the length of her and the look of pure hunger on his face sending shivers through her.

  Lorne knelt before her, untying her garters one at a time and fluttering little kisses to her thighs and knees as he did it. He unrolled her stockings and tossed them aside. She watched the deft way his fingers worked in utter fascination, and then he glanced up at her, stopping her breath altogether.

  “I do no’ know how anyone did no’ scoop ye up before I came back, but I am a man truly blessed.”

  Jaime smiled. “Fate, I suppose. Or my stubbornness.”

  “I’ve never been more grateful.” He chuckled, then reached his hands behind her and drew her nearer until his face was buried between her thighs, and he was breathing her in, placing small butterfly kisses on the very heat of her.

  Jaime’s legs trembled, her knees threatening to buckle. She grasped his shoulders for balance, a whimper escaping her. How could she be expected to concentrate on standing when he was doing that?

  Lorne stood then, taking away the worry she had for her stability, and lifted her by her bottom. As he did so, her legs instinctively circled his waist. She gasped at the feel of rough breeches against her sex, then felt her insides flutter at the hardness encased beneath as it rubbed against her most sensitiv
e place.

  “Oh, Lorne,” she murmured, kissing his neck, feeling the quickened pulse beneath her tongue as she mimicked what he’d done to her.

  “Naughty lass,” he groaned. Lorne laid her out on the bed, then knelt on the floor, his hands pressing her thighs wider as he looked at her.

  “Please,” she murmured.

  He grinned. “Ye need no’ beg, lass, for I have no plans to waylay this decadent treat.” And then he placed his lips there, his wicked tongue stroking along her folds until he reached that tight knot of euphoria.

  Jaime’s fingers curled into the coverlet, her head thrown back in pleasure as he swirled and licked and sucked. He took his time tormenting her. Fast then slow, and then he’d pull away until she begged him to come back. Over and over, until at last, that blessed peak descended upon her, shattering her insides. Her legs shook violently as her body exploded in pleasure. Back bowed, hips thrust forward. Oh, it was heaven.

  When she was finally able to open her eyes, it was to watch Lorne take off his breeches, his male organ springing free of the confines. She had thought she’d be frightened of it when she finally did see it, having only felt it before when he rubbed it against her. However, Lorne’s body did nothing but make her want more. She beckoned for him, and he didn’t hesitate climbing over her, between her thighs. He rested on an elbow, his face near hers, his warm, thick shaft probed with scorching delight at her center.

  “Are ye ready?” he asked.

  His fingers danced over her thigh, to her pulsing core, and he slipped one inside of her. She lifted her hips, arched her back and moaned. Another finger dipped inside, stretching her most deliciously.

  “Aye,” she whimpered.

  There was that wicked grin again. “Ye are, my love.” Lorne took hold of his length and slid it along her wet folds until he lodged at her entrance. “This may hurt, but only a little, I hope.”

  He kissed her then, stroking his tongue along hers, a soft moan on his lips as he surged forward, breaking the barrier of her entrance, claiming her body as he seized her mouth. She cried out at the sudden intrusion, at the small pinch of pain. While his body stilled on top of hers, inside of her, his mouth continued to work, kissing her with such passion she soon forgot the discomfort of their joining.

  “Are ye all right?” He hovered over her, eyes locked on hers.

  “Verra,” Jaime said with a smile.

  “Good.” He kissed her again, then trailed his lips down her neck as he started to move. He swirled his tongue over her nipple, sucked, licked. His hips pulled back, then pushed forward again and again while his mouth and hands seemed to be everywhere.

  Jaime spread her legs wider, her eyes open in surprise at the pleasant sensations rippling from within. She’d not expected it to feel so good…so different than his mouth on her. It was an altered, deeper pleasure.

  With her arms and legs wrapped around her husband, Jaime let him take her to unknown lands. His body was magic. Every second heightened her pleasure. She gasped, moaned, and he did the same, sharing in the heady sensations. The way her pleasure had intensified with his mouth on her started all over again.

  She clung to him, her hips rising to meet his thrusts. Lorne’s pace increased, his breath on her neck coming faster and faster, sparking even newer heights inside her. She could barely catch her breath before another gasp of bliss was pushing all the air in her lungs back out again.

  Just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, she reached her climax. A cry of pleasure echoed from her throat. Everything tightened within her and out of her, and Lorne groaned loudly as her body spasmed around him. He thrust harder, faster, and then he too was crying out her name.

  “Oh, Jaime, my love.”

  They rode the waves of ecstasy together, their breaths coming in pants, their bodies slick from exertion, until he collapsed, rolling to his side and pulling her with him.

  Lorne kissed to her tenderly on the forehead, and his arm tucked protectively around her. “I hope I did no’ hurt ye.”

  “Oh, no, ye did the exact opposite.” She stroked the side of his face and smiled. “So far ye’ve proved me wrong about my thoughts on marriage, although to be fair I had no’ taken into account this side of things. And though I’ve no experience, I must imagine ye are quite good at what ye’re doing.”

  Lorne chuckled. “I love ye, Jaime Hardheaded Andrewson Gordon.”

  “Oh, goodness, I’d no’ realized my new name yet. ’Tis a good, strong name.”

  “And goes perfectly with a good, strong woman.”

  Jaime sighed and snuggled closer. “I love ye, my husband.”

  17

  Lorne woke before dawn, a habit he’d embraced well before he’d had to dodge bombs and his captors. However, what surprised him this morning was waking to an empty bed the day after getting married.

  He bolted upright, afraid that it had all been a dream.

  “Jaime?” he called, but there was no answer from the adjoining dressing room.

  Lorne shoved aside the coverlet and rose. Splashed some water on his face and dressed in breeches and a shirt. No doublet, as he didn’t often dress formally when at Dunrobin since he spent much of his day working with his people in the fields, farms or stables. He would have preferred his kilt, but that required more time to assemble than the breeches at the moment.

  In the great hall, he found his wife sitting at the far end of the table, though not at the head, sipping a cup of tea and reading. There was a low fire in the hearth, crackling and popping. The thick walls muffled distant sounds of the servants working. Mungo stood by the door leading to the kitchens and nodded at Lorne’s greeting.

  Jaime glanced up when she saw him and smiled. “Good morning.” She held up the book. “I hope ye do no’ mind I borrowed this from your library. I’ve always loved The Iliad.”

  “One of my favorites. May I join ye?”

  “Aye. Of course.” She set down her book to pour him some tea.

  “Ye did no’ need to stop reading on my account.” He pressed a kiss to her lips when she turned to look up at him, and his body stirred with renewed desire. They’d made love several times during the night, and each time was better and better. And he would have liked very much to swipe away the tea things, dismiss Mungo, and make love to her right then and there.

  Reluctantly, he pulled away to slide into a chair beside her. “Ye’re up early.”

  She grinned over her teacup. “I’ve always been so.”

  Lorne was pleasantly surprised to find that they had that in common. “Would ye like to ride with me? I tend to do so first thing, before attending other business.”

  “I would love to. It’s been so long since I’ve been atop a horse.”

  “Then ye’re in luck. We have one of the best stables in the Highlands.”

  Mrs. Blair arrived moments later with their breakfast. Eggs, bacon and freshly baked bread, toasted and smothered in butter. They both ate with gusto, and when they finished, he led her out to the stable.

  Lorne’s favorite horse was still in Edinburgh, as he’d not wanted to torment the poor beast with a trip on the high seas, but he had plenty of other stock to choose from.

  “Were the horses a part of your deal?” he asked. It didn’t look like there’d been any depletion of the stable.

  “Nay, only the furnishings.”

  Lorne had been hoping she’d say the opposite. “I suppose it only gives credence to our hypothesis that my brother planned to maintain control of the castle all along. Otherwise, he’d have made certain to take the horses. They’re worth a fortune.”

  “I would say so.”

  Lorne chose a large, black steed, while Jaime acquainted herself with several mares until she found the right one. A dappled gray who gingerly tasted the apple Jaime held out. They waited for the stable lads to get their mounts saddled, which didn’t take long. Then they were off, riding over the grounds and toward the village so he might greet his people properly, something
he’d not been able to do on his previous journey.

  Lorne watched the way her arse rose deliberately up and down, her thighs clutching the sides of the horse. She might not have been on a horse lately, but she’d not lost her skill. Hell, he wouldn’t mind if she rode him that way, and his body responded hotly to the idea. Blood pooling in his groin and pressing uncomfortably against his breeches. Again, he was annoyed he’d not taken the time to put on his kilt. He cleared his throat, trying to gain back a measure of control before he stopped their ride and pulled her onto his lap. “Ye’re a verra good rider. Where did ye learn?”

  “Thank ye.” Jaime glanced behind at him, her brown eyes sparkling with joy. “In Ireland, actually. I’m afraid my parents never let me ride in London or Edinburgh, where we spent most of our time. But when we went to Ireland, I took great pleasure in the moors.”

  “Do ye miss Ireland?”

  “I’ve been too busy to miss it. But now that I’m here, I think so, a little bit.”

  “Understandable.”

  “And ye, did ye miss riding?” She slowed so that they were riding beside each other.

  “Verra much. The exercises I do in my gymnasium keep my upper body in shape and hone my balance, but riding, there is something different about how it works the legs. The arse.” He chuckled when she made a pretense of peering behind him at his rear.

  “Indeed. My bottom will likely be sore later.”

  “I’m more than happy to help ye with that.”

  “I bet ye are.” She passed him a wicked grin he couldn’t help returning. “My mother often said that men did no’ like a woman with a round bottom and that riding horses would give me one.”

  “Your mother is wrong on both accounts,” Lorne said.

  “I agree. She had a lot of…ideas.” Jaime rolled her eyes. “I miss her though and should no’ talk ill of the dead. But she and I…we had a troublesome relationship, to say the least. After Shanna’s great disappointment, Mother was ten times harsher and more critical in my debut and subsequent seasons. Her ideas of what the perfect wife and debutante should be did no’ exactly align with mine.”