“’Tis why ye wanted him to stay. To be there for his second born.”
“Aye.” Reid tickled Robbie’s hand from the heel of her palm to the tip of her index finger. “And I will make certain he returns before that day arrives. No man should miss the birth of his child. There is a bond that forms in that moment.”
“A bond no one can ever take away from ye,” Robbie said the words the same moment he thought them, then smiled that smile that melted his heart. “I helped Nanna deliver Alana.”
A moment of silence passed between them in reflection, and he yearned for the day they would have a family of their own. He thought of that day he’d rocked a small delicate babe beneath the shade of a willow tree in Glenstrae and wondered if their bairns would be wild and free like Robbie or cautious and guarded like himself.
He pulled her close by her chin, and kissed the soft skin beneath her eye. “You will make a good mam. ’Tis doubtful you’ll let our bairns fall off the stable roof.”
“Fall?” Both her brows rose half way up her forehead. “I dinnae fall. Ye and Fergus threw me off the bluidy roof.”
“Ye landed in a heap of hay. ’Twas a harmless experiment. The cats all landed on their feet.” He laughed outright and slid down the rail to a sitting position. “I’m certain it had been Fergus’s idea to see if you would land the same.”
She snorted at the blatant lie. “Grandda broke three switches tanning Fergus’s duff.” She joined him on the deck, hugged her knees, and twirled a curl round and round her finger. “Fergus ate his sup for a sennight standing up.”
“As did I.” Reid let his head fall against the rail, recalling the beating Da gave him for the incident. They reminisced for hours, sharing memories—both good and bad. Reid told her about the mischief he and Jax had reaped in their jungle, and for every story he told, Robbie had one similar.
He spoke of the battles they’d fought against the Kekchí tribe, and she recounted the grim events that transpired the day the Colquhouns invaded Kilchurn Castle.
“Had Lyall not warned me and Grandda about the attack, we never would have escaped over the bailey wall…”
Reid hadn’t realized how prominent of a role Lyall had played in Robbie’s life, but as they conversed about the raids and the havoc the MacGregors reaped on the MacThomases, he became increasingly aware of the reverence filling her tone when she spoke of Eoin’s seneschal.
“For every hundred head of cattle we stole from the MacThomases, Lyall left one behind in the wood.”
“And Eoin allowed this?”
Now leaning heavily into his side, Robbie fiddled with a loose thread on the blanket Duncan had brought earlier that night. “Nay. Lyall did it of his own accord without Eoin’s knowing. When the raids started to prove profitable, Lyall pilfered bits of the spoils to me to hide.”
“You keep talking about Lyall, and I’m bound to get jealous,” Reid jested, but in truth, he wanted the admiration Robbie obviously held for Lyall.
She looked up at him, and the gray light of dawn showed him the ire in her eyes. “Ye willnae deny Lyall his place in the clan because he once cared for me. He is ten times the leader that whisky-soaked drunkard wasting space in your storage chamber could ever pretend to be. Lyall will make ye a good seneschal as he is loyal.”
“He is not loyal to Eoin it seems.”
“He is loyal to me and to the clan.”
Too tired to debate the issue with her, Reid nodded his agreement, but it seemed she was not yet finished defending the man’s character.
“Lyall and I both knew how much coin Eoin wasted in the tippling houses. What little we managed to hide provided necessities for the weak of the clan.”
“Then I suspect I owe Lyall my gratitude.” Those words seemed to lighten Robbie’s position on the subject.
Her brow smoothed, her shoulders loosened, and she once again cuddled into Reid’s side. “In the vein of things, the coin we stashed over the years matters little now. ’Tis paltry pebbles compared to what lies in the keel of the Obsidian.”
“Where did you hide it?” he asked more out of curiosity than aught else.
“In the loch.” Her boastful expression told him how proud she was of herself. “Even if Eoin knew it was there, he would never go after it. The man is terrified of the water.”
Clever lass. Reid returned her grin. “So you were hiding plunder the day I returned?”
“Aye.”
Their talk mentally transported him back into that cavern. His mind’s eye filled with the memory of a besotted laddie who’d bartered for a kiss from a blushing lass. “Whatever became of the Spaniard’s gold?”
“There was never any gold. Grandda said he tossed a few trinkets into the loch to keep us occupied while he dabbled with his experiments.”
“Your grandda lied. The gold is there. I found it the eve Da took me away.”
Robbie sat up, her eyes rounded with delighted surprise. “Ye jest.”
Reid shook his head and could practically see the wheels turning in her head.
She tapped a finger against her lips, contemplating. “Think ye we should collect it before we pay visit to the crown?”
“If what we have in the keel is not enough to barter with King James, then another coffer of gold doubloons will not make a difference.”
His fingers mindlessly settled over his pocket where he kept the gold wedding band Black Dove made for him before they left the Yucatán. At the time, he thought melting down the coin he’d found years past would be symbolic of the love he’d always held for Robbie, but he feared it would mean no more to her than all the other jewels he’d given her at Rukux—the same jewels now lying in a coffer beside the bricks of gold in the keel. She intended to use all of it to save Clan MacGregor.
He threaded his fingers through hers, deciding to wait until she professed her love for him to give her the ring, but part of him wondered if that day would ever come to pass.
“Blessed be the light of day, and the Holy Cross, we say.
Blessed be the immortal soul, and the Lord who keeps it whole.” A dozen rungs up on the mainmast, Duncan announced the dawn of day as was the lad’s new duty. Only for a moment did Reid allow himself to miss Henrik. ’Twas selfish really. The Englishman was undoubtedly still enjoying the splendors of his new marriage bed.
S’truth, Reid should be doing the same. His quest to abstain from his conjugal rights became more difficult with each passing day. He wanted for naught more than to take her back to their cabin right now and feel the slide of her body against his own. He’d had the labors of their efforts to hide behind for a fortnight, but the woman was bound to get bored in the coming days, and controlling his desire for her would prove to be nigh impossible.
He pulled Robbie to her feet. “I have to relieve Jean-Pierre at the helm.”
She hid a yawn behind her hand. “But ye did not sleep.”
“Nay. I did something much more important.” He kissed her knuckles. “I made a memory.”
23
~ BATTLE OF WILLS ~
Blast the man and his bluidy restraint! ’Twas becoming utter hogwash!
Duncan announced the break of dawn an hour past. A morning sun filled the cabin with yellow light, but Reid, who lie naked in the bed snoring soundly—again—hadn’t moved. Robbie knew he was weary. He’d made a show of his exhaustion every eve for nigh a sennight now when he retired from the night watch, but he always seemed to possess the energy to talk. Mostly about foolish things. She’d learned he could curl his tongue and she couldn’t. But she could touch the tip of her nose with her tongue and he couldn’t. He’d eaten raw monkey brains on a dare when he first arrived in the Yucatán, and she confessed she once ate a worm.
Some eves they conversed on the balcony, some eves at the desk. They debated over what little they recalled from memory regarding Xitali’s theories on irrigation and alchemy, but the information she’d painted on the walls of her cavern would have taken months to analyze, much less
test.
Most of their conversations took place in bed and into the small hours of night. She suspected he missed his Mopán family, and she was happy to give him the time he needed to lament over leaving those close to him. S’truth, the timing had been perfect as she’d had her menses, but now she was finished and growing frustrated.
After bathing in the basin and using the stone Black Dove insisted she take with her, Robbie coated her skin with sweet-smelling cream and then stood beside the bed.
Reid inhaled a snore and exhaled a whistle. He was oblivious to her presence.
Most days when she awoke, he was either dressed for the day or already manning the helm. However, this morn she’d made other arrangements for him. If he’d lost his desire for her, then she was determined he find it again. This day. Now!
But how? Her sigh was audible. She crossed her arms over her small breasts and tapped her toe, recalling the handful of times they’d been intimate. Mayhap she should dress for the occasion. Reid seemed to enjoy undressing her the night of their union.
She slipped into a sleeveless undershift, then tackled the ivory corset, repositioning herself into the stiff cups so her breasts swelled over the ribbing. Next came a pair of cream silk stockings with red bows she tied at her thighs. The garments were simply for affect. If she had her druthers, she’d mount the man where he lay.
The thought alone set her pulse to thudding between her legs, but the dull pounding paled in comparison to the painful ache in her heart. She wanted to be his lover, but more, she wanted to be his twin. She wanted to be the half of the butterfly that fulfilled his dreams.
The woman in my dreams is by no means meek or timid. However, she does possess far more endurance than you. The words he’d spoken at Rukux floated between her ears and set her back on task.
Determined to prove herself a patient lover, she curled the sides of her brushed hair behind her ears and searched the locker. Two days past, she found the love-play trinkets hidden in a leather satchel behind a container of nuts. The man packed them, so he must plan to use them someday, and she could think of no better day than this one.
Uncertain which trinket to use, she grabbed a feather, a red silk scarf, and the heavy gold bracelet. Curious, she traced the butterfly adornment with the pad of her finger and speculated over the purpose of the protruding antennas. She wished she were more experienced, but resolved to trust Reid to guide her.
Another glance inside the satchel set her cheeks afire. The velvet box embossed with leafy vines held her attention.
A woman is particularly sensitive to stimulation in more than one orifice.
The visions forming in her head made the muscles in her duff pinched tight of their own accord. Debating, she pushed air through her nostrils. Holding his interests was imperative.
“Blast it.” She muttered beneath her breath and snatched up the false pillicock.
The tips of her ears burned as did the rest of her skin. With arousal or embarrassment she knew not which, but three sennights was far too long for a woman to go without being intimate with her husband. Being open-minded to experimenting was essential, even if those experiments involved her arse.
She tucked the trinkets beneath the bolster on her side of the bed in the event she didn’t possess the courage to use them, then peeled back the red silk sheets. Morning’s glow cast golden light over Reid’s naked body. He lay on his belly, his sumptuous rump a delicious treat for her eyes. A devious grin lifted one side of her mouth.
Maybe she should use the false pillicock on him.
A giggle tickled her throat and nigh ruined her plans, so she swallowed it and crawled atop him. The feather quivered in her trembling hand as she straddled his thighs and traced the lines of his sinewy back. Her nervousness angered her, but she refused to give him just cause to stray from their marriage bed.
Inhaling a breath of courage, she drew the feather’s tip through the crevice of his duff. “Are ye awake, husband?”
* * *
What the devil!
Reid awoke fully aroused. The tickle on his arse sharpened every muscle in his body. He shook the remnants of sleep from his head and squirmed beneath the weight atop him. A weight he quickly surmised was his wanton wife.
The vixen placed a row of hot kisses down his spine. “’Tis past time for ye to rise from your slumber.”
Rise? Oh, he’d risen. His cock felt like a stone beneath him. He drew in a sharp breath filled with a scent sweeter than the ripest fruit in the Yucatán. “What are you about, wife?”
Her pause told him his question had not been well-received. This day was bound to come. S’truth, he was surprised he’d held her at bay this long. He tried to swallow, but his tongue felt like a lump of burnt biscuits.
“I asked Jean-Pierre to man the helm for another few hours.” She wiggled provocatively, brushing her bare sex against his backside. “I thought we could…play.”
He wasn’t strong enough to deny her. He almost wanted to fail in this foolish quest, but a romp between the sheets would not gain him what he most desired. “If you’ll get off me, I’d be happy to get the cards.”
She huffed. “I’ve played enough rounds of glic to last me a lifetime.” The tickle of the feather disappeared, replaced by the tempting caress of her slender fingers. “S’truth, I had something else in mind.” Robbie slid down his thighs, then scraped her teeth over his arse.
His cock grew another inch.
He bucked and flipped onto his back beneath her, carefully clinging to the sheet to hide his arousal. Sunlight filtered through her brushed hair, and a glimpse at her attire thickened his bollocks—brimming breasts, smooth satiny skin, and cream-colored stockings. The beast inside him broke free of its cage. The same beast that attacked her in the jungle.
Their gazes met. Confusion puckered her brow.
“I cannae fathom why ye are hiding from me.” She slinked toward him on her hands and knees like the jaguar stalked its prey.
Heart pounding, he licked his lips and inched back. “I amnae hiding.”
“Nay?” Her slender brow angled, her head cocked. She tugged on the silk, but he held it tight over his groin. Her emerald eyes flashed with temper just as she jerked the sheet out of his hands to expose his erection.
“Och, woman!” When she grabbed her bolster to cover his nakedness, his eyeballs nigh popped out of his skull. The trinkets he’d snuck on board lie on display atop the red silk sheet. Sweat instantly gathered at his temples as he watched her slip the cock ring over her fingers.
“I was thinking ye might educate me in the art of love-play.” She pulled the corner of her full bottom lip between her teeth.
He gawked at her, eyes growing drier by the second. His entire body begged him to oblige her request, to introduce her to a world filled with carnal delights. He could learn the secrets of her body, discover all the places that made her whimper and moan. The temptation made his toes curl.
“I will be patient,” she coerced him and gave the cock ring a spin.
Damn the Devil and his wicked ways! This wasn’t what Reid wanted. “We are not yet ready for such intimacies.”
He leapt from the bed and rushed behind the partition. Hands shaking, he filled his palms with cool water and splashed his face, but naught could douse the wild fire burning beneath his skin.
“I beg to differ.” The hem of her undershift tickled his calves. “’Tis exactly such intimacies that will keep ye from straying from my bed.”
Straying from her bed? He turned around to assure her naught was the case, but she acted before he formed words.
She pinned him in place by the hips, then bent low and took the crown of his cock into her soft mouth.
“Oh God!” He reached for the wooden crosspiece overhead to steady himself. His head fell back, his eyes rolled beneath fluttering lids. No man was strong enough to resist such pleasure.
Pull her off! He wove his fingers into her hair, intending to yank her off. Instead, he thrust furt
her into her mouth. The swirl of her tongue was nigh unbearable, but not half as beguiling as the way she looked at him from beneath her cinnamon lashes.
Paralyzed by her deep green gaze, he could do little more than watch her full lips slide over the length of him. His knees weakened. The beam overhead popped in response to his weight.
When her teeth scraped the underside of his cock, he lost all ability to think.
A growl of lust and frustration rumbled deep in his throat. The sound only encouraged her actions. She massaged his taut sac and bobbed.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
Fire rolled through his bollocks like molten steel as her performance escalated.
Faster.
Harder.
“Nay!” He pulled her off him with a loud pop and jerked her upright by her hair. “This is not what I want.”
Her eyes pinched tight, but eased back open when he released his vicious hold on her scalp. She wiped her lush lips and looked at him as if he’d just announced intentions to join a monastery. “’Tis what every man wants.”
Sharp air scraped through his burning throat. Her confident words narrowed his eyes and caused a vein to pulse at his temple. “Not all men desire the same thing. Ye base your theories on the experiences you shared with one man. One self-absorbed man who used words of love to coax you into his bed.”
Her brow wrinkled, and the confusion in her eyes infuriated him all the more. He rushed past her and snatched his breeks off the back of the desk chair. “I swear Eoin ruined you.”
“Is that why ye suddenly willnae touch me? Because I am soiled?”
“I am not speaking of your maidenhead.” He ripped on his breeks and tied the laces over his swollen cock while searching for words that might explain the complexity of his emotions. “Eoin ruined your spirit. He stole your trust.” Reid stuffed his feet into his boots one at a time. “And I fear I will never dig it out of that dark abyss you call a heart.”
Undoubtedly hurt by his harsh words, she stared at him, arms hanging loosely at her sides. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, yet she spoke no words of love, made no professions.
Caribbean Scot Page 23