by Paula Quinn
“All will be well, fair lady.”
She closed her eyes against the bracing wind and the rush of tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Was tonight the last time she would see her mother and brothers? And oh, what would become of them in Dumfries without the marquess’s support? Was this her and Finn’s last night alive? The marquess would surely kill Finn if he discovered Finn had kidnapped her without leaving the information he wanted about the whereabouts of Camlochlin. She wanted to cry out, to beg Finn to take her back before it was too late, but she couldn’t. Not when a part of her wanted to go, to spend one night with him.
“Tell me again that you love me. Make our dying worth it.”
She heard his laughing on the wind behind her. “Och, Leslie, I love ye too much to make dying worth it. We’re going to live. We’re going to be happy. And I’m going to save yer kin while I’m at it.”
Chapter Ten
FINN RECLINED IN a shaky chair beside the hearth fire and reflected on the journey back to Skye so far. It hadn’t taken long but he considered it among the most tiresome and draining of the many journeys he had taken. The main reason was that at every turn, Leslie tried either to convince him to bring her back to her brothers or she argued with him about the foolishness of his endeavor. By the time they’d crossed the Narrows and entered Kylerhea, Finn doubted his sanity twice and thought about gagging her.
His weary gaze went soft as it traversed her form where she slept in the last available bed at the Otter House. He wasn’t sure kidnapping her was his best course of action, but he had no other choice. Asking for a night with her had gained him time to take her home, a full night to be exact. He’d stopped at the Otter House so that she could get a few hours rest and a soft bed where she could lie with him. He didn’t intend to remain there long.
He left his chair and went to her, praying that he hadn’t just caused the demise of them all. He didn’t care about dying. When one lives and rides with warriors, one learns not to fear the inevitable. For her, he would give up his life early.
He moved across the bed in silence and settled over her to watch her while she dreamed. For a time, he’d felt the chill of madness at the thought of never seeing her again. Now, drenching his vision with the sight of her, his lungs with the delicate scent of her, he thought he might go madder still if he didn’t touch her.
Her eyes fluttered open at the touch of his lips against the curve of her jaw. He let a trail of slow, warm kisses remind her where they were; in a bed, alone in a room. When she didn’t bolt away after a moment or two, he grew bolder and slid his body up over hers, biting the pulse at her throat while he went. He was happy that she hadn’t run, but not surprised when her mouth answered his eager plea with an insatiable hunger of her own. Aye, she was crafted from moon dust and starlight, but the blood coursing through her veins burned hotter than the sun. And it burned for him.
What man, knowing that his woman desired him above all else, could resist the dulcet groans he pulled from her? Not him. Not anymore. This time, no one would take her from him.
She looked up into his eyes when he lowered his hips and pressed them against hers. Her gaze darkened beneath heavy lids, making him harder than he already was. He took her mouth the way he wanted to take her body, passionately and possessively. She trembled and jerked beneath him when he spread her legs with his and pressed his heavy cock against her. When she looked like she might begin to protest, he quieted her with a series of soft kisses along the seam of her lips.
“Let me tell ye what ye are to me,” he told her against the warm glow of firelight, “and then, what I intend to do to ye.” He stroked her temple with the backs of his fingers and drew a breath to keep his head clear.
“Ye’re all I need to laugh, to sing, to live. Ye’re the reason I leave my warm bed in the cold morning.” He smiled when she did, exhilarated by the pounding of her heart against his. “Ye’re the answer to my prayers, and the goddess of my dreams. Ye’re the sword that cuts away my pride and the pale moonlight that compels me to howl at the heavens.”
The blush of honey across her cheeks provoked him to prove that while some might call him heavenly, he was no angel. He throbbed with the need to take her and make her his. “Ye rob me of reason and logic until I can think of nothing but being with ye.” His breath on her bosom warmed her flesh before he kissed it. “I want to reveal every inch of ye and feast my eyes until I am full.” He tugged at the laces of her kirtle with his teeth, then spread his tongue over her milky breast. “I want to run my hands all over ye,” He swept them over her and yanked at her loosened kirtle until her breasts spilled out beneath him.
“Finn.”
He smiled at the ache in her voice. She wouldn’t turn him away. She was a strong woman and whether she would admit to it or not, she wanted to claim him just as badly. He would let her, wanting no woman but her. “I want to fill my mouth with the taste of ye.” He rolled to his back, taking her with him and placing her on top of him. Her legs straddled his hips, his thick erection pushing against his kilt for release. “I want to fill ye with all of this.” Cupping both her buttocks in his hands, he moved her up and down his cock, then in slow gyrating movements that pulled a cry from her lips. “D’ye want me, Leslie?”
“Aye,” she groaned, undulating on him. “Hurry,” she pleaded, looking down at him.
He pulled her skirts up over her arse with one hand and yanked his cock free with the other. A few long strokes of his shaft on her scorching nub brought them both to the pinnacle of ecstasy. He shot liquid on her, wetting her enough to take her, enough to ease her pain and make her clutch his chest and scream his name.
He held her, guided her, and encouraged her when she pumped him hard and fast. He pulled her down, closer to his face, while he spilled his seed, confident of his potency to plant a babe in her. There was no going back now.
And anyone who tried to make him would have to kill him.
Chapter Eleven
“WE’RE GOING TO go to hell.”
“’Twould be fair fer what we just did. Thankfully we’re bound by Highland law.”
Heat trickled down Leslie’s spine at the husky cadence of his voice beside her and the memory of what he spoke about. They had made love again, slower than the first time, but no less volatile. They had…bound by Highland law?
She sat up and turned to him. She’d lived among Highlanders long enough to know what the term meant. Surely he realized that the days of such barbarianism were over. He didn’t truly believe they were bound now, did he?
“You can’t truly follow such primitive laws, Finn. A woman does not belong to a man simply because he commands it, either with his tongue or his…” She glanced down at the blanket strewn across his bare hips and blushed two shades darker.
His laughter drew her gaze back to his face and tempted her to forget everything else but the sight of him. “What amuses you so?”
“I like yer modesty, and the color it paints ye. It makes ye look pure and innocent, even though I know better.” His dimple flashed across her vision.
“As does your laughter,” she countered. “It is your best weapon. But you shall not steer me from my thoughts. “You do know that I don’t belong to you. All our night together has accomplished is more sorrow.”
He shook his head, his smile fading but still intact. “Ye’re mine, Leslie. Every Highlander, north, west, east, and south will agree and the law of might will be on my side.”
“Against England?” She didn’t know if she wanted to shout at him or throw herself against him and weep.
“We don’t need to go to England to do what we promise. History has proven that. If ye like, I can remind ye of our victories in song. I could begin with Rob’s courtship with King James’s daughter after he rescued her from a burning abbey. Or—”
“Rob courted Princess Mary?” Leslie asked with a skeptical tilt of her brow.
“Nae.”
“Anne?”
He shook his he
ad. “Davina. She is heir to the throne—as James’s firstborn. Now that ye know that, my kin will further support me in my decision.”
Davina was King James’s daughter? Dear Lord, she would never have believed it. She wasn’t sure she believed it now. But Davina and her royal parentage would have to wait.
“And what of my family?” she asked him. “I fear losing them. ’Tis Christmas, Finn. Will I ever see them again? Will they suffer because of me? I cannot bear the thought of it.”
He sat up slowly, his smile gone, his eyes alit from within. “I’ll do everything in my power to see that no one in yer family suffers. My wish is that ye all return to Camlochlin and we celebrate Chistmastide together, in safety and peace. At Camlochlin ye said my kin have an army of warriors at their back. Well, yer kin have those same warriors to protect them. It doesn’t matter where yer brothers or yer mother choose to live, my kin will stand at their sides when they are needed because of ye, and what ye mean to me. Trust me, my love. I know what yer kin mean to ye and I will not let harm come to them.”
She loved him. If she could tear open her chest and snatch her heart from it, she would hand it over to him without quarrel. Perhaps there was a way to stay with him forever, without risk to her family.
He sounded so certain. He made it difficult to do anything but respond to his kiss with equal passion. She would argue with him about his ancient beliefs and question him more about how he planned on keeping her family safe…but tomorrow.
Now, she had more compelling needs to see to, like tasting the hot sweetness of his tongue. Resisting the urge to spread open her legs the instant he pulled her down and rose above her. She was no wanton wench but neither was she a timid dormouse. What was the harm in making love to him again if he already believed she belonged to him? And oh, she would love belonging to him. She sighed while he kissed her neck, her chin, her mouth, all the while whispering worshipful words to her. She wanted to be his, to be the one who made him smile like he’d just woken from a wonderful dream and found that it had come true.
He rose up on his knees and pulled her with him. Turning her in his arms, he pressed her spine to his chest and worked his hands over her breasts, belly, and hips. She strengthened her resolve not to jerk away at the size and readiness of the steel pressing against her buttocks. Instead she rubbed herself over it, wild with desire for him while he ran his lips and his tongue over her neck. When he slipped his hand between her thighs, she smiled and groaned like some starving waif.
“You make me feel so…” She lifted her arms behind her and hooked them around the back of Finn’s neck.
“Sensual?” he finished for her, exchanging the fingers he’d used to work her into a frenzy with his cock.
She gasped and tugged at his hair when he pushed his thick head against her drenched entrance.
“Shameless?” He rubbed his palms over her nipples and growled into her ear.”Feral?” He slid himself inside her, then out and over her scorching nub until she screamed his name and panted like some forest beast against him. Proving him right. ”Beautiful?” he asked while he drove himself into her with deep, languid thrusts.
“Adored,” she answered, covering his hands with hers. “I want to remember this night until the end of time.”
“Ye will, my love.” He pushed her off him and turned her around. She knew what he wanted and straddled him. “I’ll be with ye to remind ye as often as we can.” He smiled at her and then kissed the gasp from her mouth as he plunged into her again.
Later, Leslie dreamed of giant, bare-legged men swinging axes into trees and then stepping aside while the trees fell.
She awoke to the sound of men’s voices, as familiar as the rain, but she still screamed when she opened her eyes.
Chapter Twelve
FINN WATCHED THE figure step around the bed to Leslie. He reached for a sword that wasn’t at his side, then tried to lean up. A hand on his chest stopped him.
“Easy, brother.” Connor, standing over him, smiled. “’Tis us who come to rescue ye.”
“Aye.” Tristan MacGregor performed a perfect courtly bow before Leslie, who sat clutching a blanket to her bare body…while she smiled back at him. “As I already promised yer beloved,” he said, turning to Finn, “she is in most capable hands.”
“Well, at least now she is.” Colin strolled into the room, gave it a quick, though thorough once-over, then fell backward onto the bottom edge of the bed. “So, why aren’t ye in Glenelg where ye told us to meet ye? And do we have time fer a quick nap before we return home? I haven’t been warm fer two days.”
Finn bolted upright and looked toward the window. It was morning! Or, at least, it was almost morning! So much for his night’s lead on the marquess. “Och, hell, lads, we’ve got to go!” He leaped from the bed, reached for his plaid, and crouched by the window. “The Marquess of Dumfriesshire will be coming fer us any moment now.”
“Ye took her from his grips then?” Tristan asked, smiling proudly at him across the room.
“Aye, I thought we had about six more hours.”
“Hell, he overslept,” Colin muttered, pushing off the bed and joining Finn at the window. “What was yer plan, bard? If ye knew he’d follow, ye could have reached home by morn if ye hadn’t stopped here.”
“I didn’t want him to follow me all the way. The marquess doesn’t care about his promised bride or protecting her family, but only fer the path to Camlochlin.”
Colin closed his eyes for a moment. “He does this for the usurper. Prince William is looking fer us as I’d suspected he would.”
“Ye don’t know if that’s true.”
“Why else would a Covenanter from Dumfriesshire suddenly be interested in where the MacGregors live?”
“If William wishes to take our heads fer our association with the Stuart throne and because of yer service to King James,” Finn told them, “my intention wasn’t to aid him. I had hoped we’d be deeper into the mountains before Douglas came upon us.”
“Ye knew we were coming,” Connor said, cracking open the door a hair to listen to the sounds in the hall. “Ye were leading him to us.”
Finn nodded, then looked toward whom he was most worried about. Would her brothers be among the marquess’s men? Could he keep his kin from killing them? Serious ponderings were these, yet he couldn’t keep from smiling when his gaze fell to the bed, or, rather, to the small mound beneath the blanket where Leslie was struggling to get into her gown.
“They’re coming,” Colin announced, shattering Finn’s more pleasant thoughts.
“How many?” Connor asked, coming to stand in Colin’s place near the window as the latter moved toward the door.
“They’re still afar off but there are at least ten and five.” Colin dragged two pistols out of his belt and twirled them with a flick of his wrists. “Connor, take the left flank. Tristan, ye’ll come in on their right. Finn, find Will and get up on the roof. Be ready to use yer arrows if ye have to.”
Finn had grown up with Colin. They’d practiced together as children, had laughed and gotten into trouble together. So Finn didn’t care if his friend was once a general in the Royal Army. They weren’t in the army now and Finn wasn’t a soldier to take orders.
“Will can handle the roof,” he said before Colin left. “I want to avoid bloodshed so I’ll ride in front with ye.”
Colin stopped and turned to pin him with a disbelieving stare. “Avoid bloodshed?”
“Aye. With a few.”
Colin’s gaze narrowed on him. “The marquess?”
Finn nodded. “And I want nae harm to come to Leslie’s brothers.”
“Then ye can keep them safe.”
“I will,” Finn replied. “As fer the marquess, if we kill him, every Douglas in the Lowlands will join William’s army against us.”
Colin actually smiled at him. “I knew there was more to ye than poetry and accolades about Miss Harrison and my brother. Good.” He leaned forward and clapped Finn on the back. “
What is it ye want us to do then?”
“I think ye’ll agree that we need to frighten Douglas about what will await him if he ever finds our land and dares to step foot on it. He needs to know that any amount of men he brings with him will not leave alive and neither will he.”
Colin looked toward the window and seemed to contemplate something that darkened his expression. “Aye, I’ll agree. Who are the men he rides with?”
“None are Douglases. They are guardsmen only.”
Understanding his meaning, Colin nodded and dragged a sword from his belt. He tossed it to Finn. “Ye remember how to use it?”
“Aye.”
“Will you truly kill men simply for tracking you?” Leslie said from the bed, where she appeared to be trying unsuccessfully to tie up the laces behind her back.
“Nae, Miss Harrison,” Connor answered from his place by the door. “We will stop them from ever becoming the cause, whether directly or indirectly, of the deaths of our wives and bairns.”
“Verra well then, lads,” Colin said when the conversation seemed to be over. “Let’s go terrorize the traitor.”
“One more thing.” Finn stopped him again. “I want the marquess’s assurance that if we let him live, he and his kin will do everything in their power to protect the Harrisons, whether they choose to return to the south or not.”
“I’m coming with you.”
They both turned toward Leslie, who was pushing out of her tangled heap and leaving the bed.
“Have a seat, lass.” Colin moved to block her path when she followed them to the door.
“You have a seat.” She pushed Colin out of the way.”I’ll be making certain my brothers remain unharmed.”
Connor stopped her when she set her hand on the doorknob. “At least let us go first. Aye, lass?”
Finn was thankful that his brother had spoken so thoughtfully to her, and even more so because Leslie obliged. He went to stand at her side while the others left the room. Once again, it was just the two of them. He turned to her and for the thousandth time, he considered all he would give up for her.