Claiming the Highlander

by Mageela Troche

  “What if Thor wants to go left and I want to go right?”

  “It’s in the eyes. Keep them where you want to go. You have to lead him not fight him. You wish to say something.”

  “But he fights me.”

  “What do you do with the servants?”

  “I lead them.”

  He nodded. She was still confused, but said nothing. “Now, give him a tap, easy on the reins, and he’ll walk.”

  She did as he ordered. Thor moved forward for five steps and then halted. “You have to lead him.”

  “When I rode him, he seemed to know where to go. Is that not correct, Thor?”

  Thor reached back to bite her.

  “He doesn’t like to be spoken to. Go.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “That I don’t know since he doesn’t talk to me.”

  She giggled. Caelen smiled in return. His cheek flushed a warm pink and the blue of his eyes gleamed.

  “No talking to Thor.” She tapped her heels. Thor never moved. She tapped harder. Thor moved nine steps—she counted—then halted and munched on grass. She heard Caelen’s groan.

  “You must be at ease on a horse. Don’t be stiff in the saddle.” She slumped low. “Not like that. Come.” He stretched out his arms.

  She went happily, jumping into them. Back on her feet, she thought the lesson complete. She let out a relieved exhale. He slipped behind her. She stood stiffly, waiting to see what he did. He grasped her hips and drew her against his pelvis.

  “There is a rhythm to riding. You have to follow it.” He pushed his hips forward and set her to follow. “Roll your hips.”

  She squirmed against him to find her fit. Through layers of wool and linen, she felt his manhood jutting against her buttocks. She knew she wore a wicked visage on her face. He shifted his hips and guided her with his hands. She rolled her hips forward and back, finding the rhythm. She leaned against him. His fingers bit into her hips. The tempo sped up. A languid heat built up, spreading from her chest and up her neck and checks. Her mouth parted slightly for some air.

  Caelen snaked his hand around her waist. His hand splayed low on her stomach. He kissed the tender side of her neck. He caught the flesh between his lips. His roughen tongue scraped the pulsating spot. Her head rolled to the side as she luxuriated in the sensual sensation of his caress.

  “I love the way you taste. Sweet and tart.”

  Slowly, she melted. A wild tattoo thumped in her ears.

  “Brenna,” he whispered. His words trembled against the throbbing vein beneath her flesh. A hitch rushed through her and she shuddered. She clasped his hand, interlocking their fingers. She needed to hold on or she would crumble at his feet.

  “How do you do this to me?” He seemed to be begging for an answer.

  She licked her lips as she shook her head.

  He cupped her chin and angled her head backward. His mouth captured hers with urgency. Each stroked of his tongue demanded she match his raw, ravenous desire. She wrapped her tongue around his. He groaned, and then spun her around. He lifted her and carried her. To where, she didn’t know and had no care. Their bodies melded from pelvis to mouth. She buried her hands in his hair. Her nails scraped his scalp.

  He slid her along his body as he set her down. She touched ground and he ripped his mouth away. In the back of her throat, she made a sound that was meant to voice her displeasure. She yanked him back. He nipped at her lower lip, and then kissed her with small, teasing pecks.

  Against her mouth, he said, “I’m teaching you to ride…me.”

  He lowered himself to the grassy earth, laid on his back, and drew her atop him. He parted her legs so she straddled him. His hard manhood jutted against her. He slipped his hands under her skirts and inched up her thigh. His calloused skin scraped her tender flesh. He cupped her and parted her curls. She rubbed against him. He drifted his hand away. He flung up his plaid. He guided her hand to his manhood. She gripped him. He pushed up as her hold tightened.

  She lifted slightly and guided him to her opening. He came into her with a body-racking groan. She stilled. For the briefest of moments, she had satisfaction, and then her body demanded more. She slid down the hard length of him.

  She rose to the tip. When she came down again, his eyes closed. His hold loosened on her, letting her lead. Between his lashes, she saw his eyes, glazed with passion. He planted his feet and surged upward. She rode him harder and faster. As primal knowledge guided her, she found the rhythm, rolling her hips. She wanted—nay—needed him deeper. Her knees dug into the earth, and she planted her hands flat on the grass on either side of his head. Her moans grew. Her breast jiggled over his face.

  Through the linen, he sucked on the hard nipples. A coil spun low in her gut, tightening with each stroke. He gripped her hips and he jerked. She threw back her head and cried out her release, flinging blades of grass she ripped from the earth. She collapsed atop him. Her bones melted.

  She blinked, aware of her surroundings again. The zinging flutter of the leaves was the first sound she heard. The tanginess of grass, earth, and maleness hung thickly. A breeze swept against her heated cheeks, cooling her slightly. She lifted halfway up. Caelen lay beneath her, a ghost of a smile on his mouth.

  He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. With the other, he gave her a playful slap on her arse. “Woman, this wasn’t the lesson.”

  “Perhaps not, husband, but this was the best lesson I ever had.”

  “Are you feeling well?”

  “Never better. I can do anything.” She threw out her arms out.

  “Good. Time to get back on the horse.” He rose up on his elbows.

  She plucked grass from his hair. “Nay.” He grabbed hold of her and stood. He set her down. “I am getting tired of you picking me up and just putting me where you wish.”

  “Don’t worry, you never stay.”

  She stuck out her tongue. He snapped at her tongue then kissed her again. Breaking it off, he spun her around and guided her to Thor.

  “You plan to throw me on him,” she grumbled.

  He chuckled. Before he could throw her on Thor, she mounted. For the first time, the animal didn’t try to bite her.

  “Remember everything I told you.”

  She kicked her heels and kept her eyes forward. She saw Thor’s ears twitch. She didn’t bounce about. She kicked her heels again.

  Thor surged ahead and picked up speed. Faster and faster he went. Caelen ran beside her.

  “Pull back on the reins,” his bellow echoed around her.

  She didn’t pull on the reins. She bounced about. Her heels struck his side. Tap. Tap. Tap. And the faster he ran. She closed her eyes.

  Then Thor halted. She kept going through the air. She screamed. Her arms flailed as the earth drew closer. She landed. Breath burst from her chest. It rushed back as bone-breaking pain racked her. All was a blur. She wanted to do nothing but close her eyes. So, she did.

  “Brenna! Brenna!”

  She heard the panic in his voice. She lifted her hand and awoke every nerve in her and flooded her with pain again. She moaned. At least, she knew she would live.

  He grasped her hand. Even that pained her. “Open your eyes!”

  “Nay…it hurts.”

  “Brenna, open your eyes.”

  She peeled her eyes open. His brow wrinkled. His neck muscles strained. His veins cut stark against his skin.

  “I’m going to check you. Do not move until I say to.” Caelen ran his hand over her head and down along her shoulders to her arms. She groaned and that sent a wave of pounding through her. He flinched back and cut his gaze to her face. He froze. His hands hovered about her waist. She regretted moaning. The man looked so worried. His eyes were wide. His pale coloring lost the little it possessed. She even saw his hands shake a little. She gave him a tight smile. Not that he moved. After a while, he gingerly moved to her torso, running his touch along her beyond her breast to over her stomach and downward, not stopping
until he inspected her legs even her feet.

  “I’m going to roll you over.”

  She scrunched up her face. She wanted to tell him to leave her alone but she knew he would not listen to her. He slipped his arms beneath her waist and shoulders and rolled her to her side. He ran his hand along her back. She whimpered.

  He finally finished his inspection, and then laid her back again.

  “Nothing is broken. You can sit up if you wish.”

  He grasped her hands. Tenderly and slowly, he drew her up. She let out a mixture of cries and moans.

  He wrapped a supportive arm around her. She liked his attention, but wished she didn’t have to fly off the horse to get it. “Where does it hurt?”

  “Everywhere.”

  “Does one place hurt more than the other?”

  She scrunched up her face as she did a mental inspection of all her body parts. “Nay.”

  “Good, you shall be bruised and sore but you will get back on the horse.” He brushed dirt off her sleeve.

  “Is that my punishment for borrowing Thor?”

  “Never. I would never treat you badly.” He settled beside her.

  “Look at Thor just standing there, swinging his tail back and forth. Can I get back on the horse another day?”

  “Are you walking back?”

  She nibbled on the inside of her mouth. “Nay. Can I lead, though?”

  “That’s my brave Countess.” With a supportive arm around her, he lifted her to her feet.

  “One day, I may have to ride out to defend our home. It will look so much more intimidating if I’m on a horse.” She dusted off the grass and dirt.

  “Let’s hope the day never comes.”

  She limped her way to Thor and let Caelen lift her up. When Caelen mounted, she took the reins. She tapped her heels.

  “A little harder,” he offered.

  A harder tap and Thor was on his way.

  “Loosen the reins. More—there. Relax your wrist. You lead, remember that. He will listen to you.”

  She snorted but did as instructed. He pushed aside her hair and gave her a kiss on her neck.

  To embarrass her, Thor listened to her. The ride home ended quickly. She drew Thor to a stop.

  “Excellent. You have learned to stop him.”

  “After my dismount, I remember what I must do and shall never forget.”

  “Neither shall I.” Caelen dismounted first and swung her down. She was thankful for being off the beast, though.

  Coinneach came over, still holding the egg.

  “That will start to smell and you cannot keep giving eggs away.” She spotted a mule in the stable. “Who does that belong to?”

  Coinneach looked over his shoulder. “Father Murray is here.”

  She tossed the reins to Caelen. He stayed her with a touch. “We shall enter together. See to the horse.”

  “I must look a fright. This is not good. Why has he come?” She gripped his plaid.

  “I cannot disagree with that, but we shall face it together. Besides, he may be here to give my father last rites. Come, it is time we went inside.”

  She tried to hold onto Caelen’s words. She hoped it was for his father’s soul as unforgiving as that thought was. She brushed off as much of the dirt and scraps. From Caelen’s cocked brows, she had failed to look presentable. Oh well. Together they stepped inside.

  Father Murray sat among the council, speaking of news in the Highlands. There were marriages and deaths, feuds and fighting.

  “Father Murray, welcome to Mackenzie Castle,” Caelen said.

  “Thank you. Lady Wester Ross, you look injured.”

  She waved away his words. “My husband was teaching me to ride, and I took a spill. No injuries, though.”

  “Do you think that a good idea?” Gilroy started. “She could have been harmed or killed. She might even be with child now.” He stared at her middle.

  Brenna’s welcoming grin tightened at his words.

  “Don’t you think so? Tavish? Finian?”

  “I’m surprised she canna ride. How did she travel ’ere?” Finian glanced about for an answer.

  “I rode, though that isn’t a pressing matter. Father Murray, have you come for the laird?”

  “In part, I heard the dogs howled all night. Though, as a man of the cloth I mustn’t put much stock in that, but as a highlander myself, I cannot deny it.”

  “The other reason?” Caelen crossed his arms.

  “I have been sent by the Bishop to see about this…complaint I suppose, that Laird Grant has raised.”

  “What has he complained about,” Caelen asked.

  “He says this union is unholy since there is blood relationship between the countess and yourself.”

  “I know of no relation,” Brenna said.

  “He claims it’s on your maternal line. Your grandfather and the lady. Though, inquiries are being made to the line of the generation.”

  “That doesn’t explain your presence.”

  Brenna grasped Caelen’s hand and gave him a slight rap on the back. “My husband does not mean to question you in such a manner. Forgive him.”

  “Aye I do. Tell me why?”

  “The king feels if the marriage possesses martial affection, then the laird is grasping for any excuse to get what he wants. He wishes to know the truth. I have visited Laird Grant.”

  “All is well?” Brenna had no care to hear the answer.

  “All is.”

  That was all he said. Two small words when her life could fall apart. She hated not having her questions answered. Oh, she had to learn all.

  “Father, you are most welcome, and please let me see to your needs. I shall return.” She found a servant, ordered a chamber made ready, and then set off to the kitchen to order another setting for the evening meal.

  Her father would not tear them apart. She’d show everyone how wonderful this union was.

  * * * *

  When Father Murray departed to wash up, Caelen joined the council. He would follow his father’s advice and work with them, or else fight against them. He decided to do both.

  “Gilroy, you are the Seanachaidh.”

  The three men leaned forward.

  “Aye, you want me to go through the records and find if ’tis true or false?” Gilroy dropped his voice to a whisper, his voice thickening.

  “If we can prove there is no relation between Brenna and myself, then we can stop this foolishness,” Caelen said. “I don’t want anyone to learn of this, especially my father.”

  “He is laird,” Tavish said.

  “He is dying. He doesn’t need to pass on to his reward worrying about the clan. You will have to deal with me. Can you do it without hostilities?”

  Finian and Gilroy sent inquiring looks at Tavish. “If I must,” Tavish answered. “Can ye do the same?”

  Caelen wished otherwise, to rid himself of these men. He couldn’t. He brought up the tense truce between them. “If I must.”

  “Wat aboot her ladyship?” Finian asked.

  “I shall handle her.”

  Finian snorted. “Ye think ye can because it dinna appear tha way.”

  “She wants this marriage as much as—we do.” Caelen caught himself before he revealed his desire for this marriage, and more importantly, his wife. He liked having her about. She wasn’t fearless, but she didn’t cower from her fears. She acted from her heart. Caelen believed it was reckless, yet he liked it in Brenna. More important, he respected her for it.

  “Can she be trusted?” Finian asked.

  “Has she proven otherwise?”

  “The letter she sent to her father. Who ken wat she penned?” Tavish shook his head. “If we ken wat her father wrote, perhaps we’d ha’e an idea aboot w’ere she stands.”

  Caelen wished to know what it said. He had seen her hide it in the bottom of her trunk.

  “We have no reason not to trust her.” Caelen sickened at breaking her trust.

  “And these men, wat
aboot them? Maybe ten an’ six men are enough.” Tavish pointed at Caelen.

  “The men can be watched. Give that duty to Manus. He’s chasin’ around the lass anyway,” Finian added.

  Caelen nodded. “I will see to that.”

  “In the meantime, Father Murray’s presence means we must be careful about how we do this,” Gilroy said. “Can you handle treating your wife as an enemy?”

  “I don’t see her as such. But I know my duty.” To both his wife and clan. Brenna came in from the rear of the great hall. She rolled her shoulders and grimaced. “I do not mean to disturb, but the servants are coming to prepare for the midday meal.”

  “Good.” Finian rubbed his belly. “I am hungry.”

  “Did you not have your mid-morning meal?”

  “Aye, ’tis na enough.”

  Gilroy laughed. “’Tis never enough. Kathleen always complained about your eating.”

  “Surprised he hasna searched more out,” Tavish said.

  “You must let me know all your needs. I shall have more served for you.” A warm flush of pink swathed across her cheeks.

  “Och, you may spoil him, my lady, and he’d never return home.” Gilroy slapped his hands together at his joke.

  “He is home.”

  “Don’t offer that so soon, Brenna.”

  She laughed, a light sound. Caelen smiled, though he hated that the very sound had him rushing with joy that he laughed at it.

  “I shall clean up before the meal.” Brenna departed. Her walk was stiff and slowed. He had almost lost her because he didn’t want her to end up with her neck twisted at an odd angle. It was not as if he could order her to stop riding; she balked at such things and only saw it as a dare to disobey. Even now, he vividly saw her flying through the air, and the thought of her loss shook him. If he had been alone with her, he would have held her close till the chills vanished.

  He started to the stairs to assist her, but Manus’ appearance turned him away from it. He called him over, and together they returned to the council.

  “Manus, we have a duty for you.” His instinct told him this plan might go against him. He pushed them back, desperate to fix this. His father needed peace, and he’d bear the weight of this. He explained what he wanted from Manus.