“Laird,” Gavin said. “What’s the meaning of this? You’ll excuse me if I don’t get up, I hope?”
“Your ladyship,” the laird said.
How did he know? He sounded absolutely floored. As well he might.
The officer visibly swallowed. “I’m sorry, my lady. There were reevers at work tonight. We followed one of the blackguards here.”
They seemed to be expecting her to say something. She waved a hand. “Did you think to find this thief in my chamber?”
“No, your ladyship. Excuse me, Lady Breton. Laird Duncan said only one room in the castle was occupied apart from his own, but—” he turned a jaundiced eye on the laird “—he didn’t see fit to name his guest.”
Behind her, Gavin was moving his hips in small circles. That erection of his was making straight for... She went hot all over.
“I should hope not,” she gasped. “Discretion, er...Captain. It is the watchword.”
“Lieutenant, my lady,” he corrected. “I apologize for disturbing your rest.”
“Apology accepted. Good night to you, Lieutenant.”
He backed out as if she was royalty and closed the door.
She let go her breath.
Gavin rocked his hips against her butt. It felt wicked. And lovely and hard. And perhaps a little aggressive. “Lady Breton, is it?” he muttered.
“Well, yes. But I usually keep it to myself.” Titles didn’t go down well in the office. People tripped over them and went red in the face. And sometimes got resentful. And it wasn’t worth a hill of beans. She had to work for a living.
The hairs on his chest tickled her spine. He nipped at her shoulder. “The infamous Lady Breton, is it?”
Oh, saints above. She had been right. She had somehow morphed into her ancestor.
Perhaps if she went back to sleep, she could morph back into herself and head straight back for Glasgow. She rolled over. Her breasts came into contact with that magnificent chest. He gazed down at her, his expression soft.
“You know, lass, I’ll not be having any more of your mischief. You’re mine now.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“That is quite all right.”
“No. I mean, what did you say?”
He brushed his mouth over hers, nipped at her bottom lip, sucked it into his mouth. A tingle shot to her core. “You’re in my bed. I’m laying claim to you. For all time.” He cupped her breast and stroked her nipple with his thumb. The sweet agony of it rushed all the way down between her thighs.
“I don’t know about all time. But right now...” She launched her body over his, took his mouth with her lips and plunged her tongue into its whisky-flavored depth. A low animal growl rose up from his chest. His hands rifled through her hair and caressed her scalp, then he cradled her face in those wonderful strong hands and lifted her head. Her lips missed the blissful contact.
“You, lass, will be the death of me.”
“But a good death, right, Gavin?” She grinned and slid one leg across his thighs, felt the massive width of them beneath her inner thigh, the softness of his balls at her hip and the hardness of his erection against her belly. Oh, yes. An excellent death. And if she was lucky, more than one.
“Aye.” He sighed. He licked the place beneath her ear. Delectable shivers ran across her breasts. He muttered something else.
What was he saying?
The sound of horses below made him still. His heart beat strong and steady against her breasts. His arms came around her in a protective move he probably didn’t even notice.
“They are leaving,” she said.
“Aye, and no doubt the laird will be returning,” he muttered into her neck.
Coitus interruptus. She didn’t believe it. After her disastrous engagement and a year of abstinence, she wasn’t letting this one get away. “If he comes, we’ll tell him we’re busy.”
The candle cast soft light across his face, highlighted the sharp angles of his jaw, the dancing eyes. A handsome man. And too bloody sexy to be lying here doing nothing. A well of possession rose up within her. She wanted to absorb him, inside her body, her soul and her mind. The emotion held her enthralled for one very long moment. It was ridiculous, because she wasn’t staying. On the other hand, if she was stuck here, she was damn well going to make sure she kept him. She pressed a finger against his magnificent chest to emphasize her point. “We. Are. Busy.”
He raised a brow. “Are you sure, lass? I’ve no wish for recriminations in the morning.”
A smile tugged at her lips. A true Highland gentleman. She’d begun to think they’d disappeared back with Bonnie Prince Charlie. “Oh, baby. I’m sure.”
Gavin swallowed. The words were like music to his ears. Siren music. The body on top of his felt utterly perfect. Soft in all the right places, curvy against his wandering palm. He stroked her bum and gave it a squeeze just to make sure. By all the Saints, it felt good.
He slipped a finger between the cheeks on her lovely behind and found...delicious wetness between her long slender thighs. How she came to be here in his room he couldn’t quite figure out, but he was not going to look this wee giftie horse in the mouth.
Well, he might look in her mouth and in a whole host of other places as time went on, but he was not giving her back to whomsoever had dropped her into his bed. When she nipped at his bottom lip, he opened his mouth and her tongue dove in to tangle with his while her mound assaulted his erection, rubbing and circling, driving him mad with the urge to bury himself to the hilt inside her sweet, wet warmth.
He suffered it as long as he could, but when her finger and thumb tweaked his nipple, he groaned and rolled her over. “Time for a wee taste of your own medicine, lass,” he whispered against her smiling lips.
“Oh, good,” she said, and he clenched. If he didn’t put some distance between her arching hips and his seeking shaft, he’d been done in the blink of an eye. And that would not be good.
He hung on to his control by a thread and settled between her hips, nudging her legs apart until he could feel the damp of her center high against his belly.
“No fair,” she said, wriggling beneath him.
He planted tender little kisses across the top of her breast, felt the give of the soft sweet flesh beneath his lips, licked and nuzzled down into the valley and up the rise. He swirled his tongue around her hard nipple, while he gave the other breast a gentle squeeze to ensure it didn’t feel neglected. She purred deep in her throat.
He suckled. The pitch of her instant moan went straight through him. Marry, but she was a hot little witch. It took all his concentration to remain where he was, pleasuring each breast, hearing her purrs and her cries and feeling her body turn to liquid beneath his hands.
Her hands stroked his back, his shoulders, his arms. It was as if she was learning every inch of his body. Every inch she could reach, anyway. And he loved the way her palms felt, running over his sweat-slicked skin, quick and demanding, yet admiring. It made him feel manly and proud. She speared her fingers into his hair, then pulled. Hard. “Ouch.”
“Have you forgotten what it’s for, you big ox? I want you inside me.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “Are you ready for me then, lassie?”
Her little fist beat on his shoulder, as if she could make a dent. “Now.”
“Oh aye. Give me but a moment.” In truth, he didn’t want to wait, but he’d learned a long time ago, that females needed more time than a
man. But since she wasn’t the slightest bit shy, thank the Lord, he had no doubt she was ready.
Blood pounded in his veins.
He raised himself up on his hands. She lifted her thighs, crossing her ankles high on his waist, generously opening herself. He almost wept with pure joy as he glanced down at the apex of her legs, to the lovely damp dark red curls. One of her hands found his chest, she scraped her thumbnail across his nipple. Blissful agony. He reached between them. And found her small hand there ahead of him, grasping his shaft, guiding him to her hot sweet center.
What was a man to do? He let her have her way, while he supported himself above her on both hands. Every muscle shook with the effort to remain still. Her hand on his shaft was fine, bearable, just, and exquisite, but the when his head touched wet soft flesh, a groan of pleasure ripped from his throat.
“You’re a big lad,” she whispered.
Ah God, don’t let her change her mind. “Do not worry lass. It’ll fit.”
“Oh, I’m not worried,” she said, and laughter along with the heat of desire filled her eyes. She lifted her hips a fraction, encouraging him in.
Saints preserve him. He’d never met a woman this bold, or so full of passion. He’d be lucky to survive the encounter. It’d be a fine way to meet his end, he mused as he pressed forward a fraction, testing her reaction, watching her face to see what she liked and how.
Her little hiss of breath gave him cause to smirk. As did her heels at his bottom urging him on. “Like that, do you, dear heart?”
“Stop talking, and—”
He thrust home.
Her moan of delight was music to his ears. A symphony. An angel chorus. His mind went blank to all but pleasure. He couldn’t separate her cries from the sounds of their bodies coming together in unison, or the feel of her sweet flesh from his and he couldn’t hold back. He’d found something he hadn’t been aware of seeking all these years. A new beginning in a very satisfying ending. He caught the cries of her release in his mouth and felt the white heat of climax rocket through his blood.
Boneless, he rolled on his back and pulled her onto his chest. Her head tucked into the crook of his neck, he listened to the pound of her heart against his ribs. God, but she was lovely.
With enough passion to drive a man beyond reason.
Only, he hadn’t lost his mind yet.
“We need to talk,” he said.
She wriggled a protest and he felt her tongue lick his skin and shivered. “About what?”
“About who you are. And how you ended up here in my bed.”
“Oh. That.”
“Aye.” He lifted the covers and climbed out, wrapping his plaid around him as he went. “I’m sorry to do this right now, but up you get.”
“Where are we going?”
“The kitchen. If you’ll remember, our meal was interrupted by yon English soldiers and I’m still starving.”
“Oh, right.” She fumbled under the pillow and pulled out the scraps of silk she’d worn before.
“Haven’t you anything more...suitable?”
She glanced at him, her face rosy and just a little damp from their exertions and he had the strongest urge to toss her back on the bed again. “I don’t think so.”
“You must have worn something else when you arrived.”
“I did. FCUK.”
“There you go with the strange letters again.”
She laughed. “Trousers and a jacket, not unlike this.” She held up the silk. “But sturdier.”
“Aye, well I can see how it might suite for travelling the hills, but you must have a kirtle.”
“Must I?”
Why was she being so difficult? He went to the press and threw up the lid. He pulled out a scarlet gown and a shawl. Beneath it, he found stays and a pair of silk stockings and neat shoes with silver buckles. “Here it is.”
She shook her head. “Where else would it be? I bet it fits, too.”
For a moment he wanted to pull his hair out by the roots, because every word out of her mouth didn’t make any sense and he had the feeling if he questioned her, it would only get worse. He handed her the shift. “Just put it on.”
She drew the translucent fabric over her head and he was treated to the sight of delectable curves and swells and hollows in a filmy veil. He repressed a groan. “I’ll help you with the stays.”
She held the boned item in her thumb and forefinger by the laces. “I assume you mean these.”
“Aye. Turn around.” He laced the damned thing as quickly as he could and tossed the scarlet silk over her head. Given that the neckline skimmed her rosy pink nipples, it didn’t offer him much respite from his lust, but at least it wasn’t as bad as seeing her prance around the room next to naked.
“Used to dressing females, are you?” she observed when he turned her around and gave the neckline a sharp tug toward her chin.
He wrapped the shawl around her shoulders and tied it across her chest. “Aye.”
“I’m getting a wee bit fed up with that word.”
He took a step back and frowned.
“You keep saying aye as if it contains all the information I need. Well, it doesn’t. Which females are you used to dressing and when and how many?”
Lord, but she was a creature of fire when roused. And he loved it. He scratched at his stubbled chin, just to see her grit her teeth, and grinned. “I’m near thirty-five, my lady, and I’m not a monk. And I’d never leave a woman, lady or no, to walk home in her shift.” At her open mouth, he added. “And that’s all I’m going to say. Now, downstairs with you.”
He bowed and gestured to the door. When she turned in a flounce of skirts, he patted her bum, thankful they’d not found any hoops in the chest.
He plucked a torch from its sconce and lit the way down the stairs. In a few moments they were back in the kitchen. Tankards littered the table. It seemed that the laird had offered the soldiers a stirrup cup before they left. Once more he raided the pantry, digging out the bread and cheese and a tankard of ale and yet another bottle of wine. He added that to his hoard and carried his booty back to the kitchen.
Curses. She’d wandered off again.
He kicked the embers of the fire to bring them to life and went in search of his lady.
His lady.
He surely liked the sound of that. But the question in his mind was whether he could actually keep her. He’d said brave words up in the tower room, but he had the oddest feeling that unless he managed to carry her off and lock her in his holding, she’d slip through his fingers like a will-o’-the-wisp.
A little chill ran across his back.
There it was again The Sense. The knowledge of shadowy fae. His mother had the sight. And if he actually allowed himself to admit it, he had something else. The Sense of the Auld Ones just beyond the corner of his eye, there and not there.
Tonight they were watching and laughing.
Tormenting little devils.
He found her in the great hall, looking up at the banners.
“I can’t believe how colorful they are,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because they are so old.”
He stared at the one that seemed to have caught her attention, a black boar on an azure ground. “That’s the laird’s standard. It is hardly old. His wife made it.”
She closed her eyes briefly, as if in pain. “Of course. What am I thinking?”
“I wish I knew, lass. Come sit with me while I eat.” He took her by the hand and led her back into the kitchen. She would have taken a stool, but he pulled her onto his lap. He didn’t want her slipping away when he wasn’t looking. He poured a glass of wine and placed it in her hand. “Health to you, my lady.”
“And to you,” she said.
He raised a brow.
“You are not my lord,” she said.
“But I would like to be, if you would but agree.” He held his breath as her eyes seemed to fill with clouds. It was like watching mist flow up from the sea and masking the heather-clad hills, hiding their features, the rocks and the gullies, and softening the harsh truth.
“What is it, lass,” he asked softly.
“It’s hard to explain.”
“I’ve got all night.” He took a long swallow of beer and began buttering the bread.
For a long moment she stared into the ruby liquid in her glass. “You have to keep an open mind,” she said. “Not get angry or impatient.”
The hollow feeling in his stomach expanded. The bread and the beer were doing nothing to help it go away. He nodded. “I’ll say nothing.”
“I think I traveled through time.”
She said it as if it explained everything. As if he should understand. And when she said nothing more, he gently turned her chin with one finger to bring her face around. She looked a little pained. “I’m not getting your meaning, lass. You traveled in a clock?”
“No. I went to bed in the year of our lord two thousand and thirteen and woke up with you in the room in the year seventeen-fifteen. I traveled back through time.”
The breath caught in his throat as he tried to take it in. His mind went blank for a second. It seemed impossible, but at the same time, here she was. Different from any other woman he’d ever met. Bold and lovely and different. He opened his mind to the currents of air in the room, the wavering ones from the fire, the strong draughty ones from beneath the door. Carrying laughter. The fae.
“My mother always said there was something about this castle,” he said. “She thought they’d built it on ground sacred to the Auld Ones.”
In Bed with the Highlander Page 4