A Highlander's Christmas Kiss

by Paula Quinn

  He held her close while she sobbed into his shirt and he cried with her. “I will do anything… anything to win ye back. Please, tell me I have a chance.”

  Finally she sniffed and moved away a bit to look up at him. “Why did you beat Duncan?”

  “I couldna let him die by yer hand.”

  “So instead you would let him die by yours?”

  “Aye, lass. I love ye. I love who ye are—I love the joy I saw in yer eyes, the way ye love yer kin, the way I believe ye loved me. I want that all back. Walk with me,” he pleaded, then breathed again when she nodded.

  She fell in step beside him and his heart broke at the small size of her so near. They walked in silence back to her room, and to his surprise and elation, she invited him in.

  “Should I worry fer m’ life?” He tried to sound lighthearted as he entered.

  “I’ve seen what you did to five men and Duncan. You’ve nothing to fear from me.”

  Oh, but she was wrong. She, and she alone, had the power to slay him.

  “Ye could poison me, lass.” He moved about the room and went to stand by the window. Looking out, he could see the tiny hamlet in the distance below. A need to protect everyone in it washed over him. He wanted to go back… with her.

  “I could,” she agreed, sitting on the edge of her bed. “But then I would get no answers from you.”

  He turned to look at her. “What do ye want to know? Ask me what ye will and I’ll tell ye the truth.”

  “Cutty killed my father, aye?”

  “Aye.” He’d known it would be difficult, nae, near impossible to confess to her, but it was happening now and he wasn’t prepared for the pain in her gaze as she looked away, remembering.

  “Why did you return to Linavar after?”

  She looked at him, her eyes misty and empty. He went to her and knelt at her feet. “I wanted yer forgiveness—yers and Gram’s. I watched ye bury him and I knew I’d never get it.”

  She blinked and a tear fell to her cheek. He ached to wipe it away. To wipe it all away.

  “You were there that morning?”

  “Aye, and that first night as well. I heard ye talkin’ to William. I heard him tellin’ ye to be strong and I knew… I understood how hard that is to do and how alone it makes ye feel.”

  “Aye,” she whispered softly, her large, luminous eyes filling with tears again. “I didn’t want to be strong.” She swiped at her eyes but more tears came.

  He understood. He knew what it was like to have your heart and soul wrenched out while people around you went on living, laughing, not truly understanding.

  He reached up to smooth a tendril away from her face. If she rejected him, so be it. He longed to comfort her. “Ye dinna have to be strong, lass,” he said tenderly. “Ye suffered a tremendous loss.”

  She didn’t push his hand away but brought her own hands up, buried her face in them, and let her tears fall freely.

  Instantly Cailean drew her into his arms, moving to sit beside her on the bed. With every shift of her delicate shoulders as she pulled in air, only to expel it again on an anguished sob, he ached to comfort her more. He let her cry, as she needed to, holding her, whispering tender promises that all would be well. When she finally looked up at him, her face wet with tears, he smiled softly and smoothed away her hair.

  “I love ye. I love ye and it scares the hell oot of me. I want to live m’ life with ye. I want to see ye smile, hear yer laughter, hear ye tell me ye love me. Please fergive me, lass. I’ll go mad if ye refuse.”

  Instead of answering him, she lifted her arms and coiled them around his neck. Her mouth was so close, her breath warm on his chin. Her body trembled against him, tempting him to kill for her, to die for her.

  Hell, he was lost.

  Lowering his face to hers, he kissed her soft mouth and pulled her closer against him. She responded with an eagerness that made his body go hard. She was more than what he desired, more than he’d expected, or ever deserved. He wanted her, every part of her, and he couldn’t wait any longer.

  He deepened their kiss and groaned against her mouth. She replied with equal fervor, running her palms over the coarse hair along his jaw.

  How was it that she forgave him so easily? He didn’t care. His heart leaped, his blood boiled.

  He drew her down on the bed and they tore at each other’s clothes. His plaid and trews flew across the room, followed by his boots, until he lay naked against her. He pulled her gown up farther until they had to separate their lips to lift the dress over her head, then he lowered his mouth to hers again, heady with want for her. Temperance continued to weep, but now, as he kissed away her tears, she smiled and whispered the words that captured his heart and claimed it for all time.

  “I love you, Cailean. I forgive you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Temperance gazed up into Cailean’s eyes, watching them darken with need, close as he kissed her mouth, her cheek, her ear, his sweet breath stirring tendrils of her hair.

  Her tears had finally purged her of the terrible sorrow of losing her father. She felt as if she were dreaming the most wonderful dream. She wasn’t angry with Cailean any longer. Oh, how could she be? After his declaration to her, she understood him a little better. He loved her. He’d suffered over his actions, so much that he hadn’t been able to tell her. Aye, it was he who had brought the Black Riders to the hamlet that night, but he hadn’t wanted her father’s death. He’d tried to stop Cutty but his call to wait had been too late. She understood the monster because she’d become one. The words he’d said to her rang in her ears. He had forgotten who he was after losing Sage and Alison. He’d let darkness and fear take over. She understood. She had let hatred and rage consume her. She’d wanted to kill. She’d wanted revenge, vowing it over her father’s grave.

  But Cailean had saved her. If she’d known the truth earlier, she never would have let him help her smile again. She would have become that same cold beast.

  He’d saved her, just as she had saved him.

  But she refused to think on it now. Instead she thought only of his body, hard and lean atop hers, his warm flesh trembling beneath her fingers as she ran them over his corded arms.

  His kisses fell on her throat while his broad hands sculpted her shape, learning her, knowing her in a way so intimate each touch became a declaration of possession, a love shared freely. He lifted his head and gazed down at her, lost in contemplation.

  She slipped her fingers through the soft strands of hair falling over his forehead, her fingertips lingering on his strong, bristled jaw, his perfectly dimpled chin.

  The need in his eyes thrilled her and frightened her at the same time. He traced the contours of her face and paused, as if what they were about to do overwhelmed him as much as it did her.

  “I love ye, Temperance,” he whispered on a ragged breath. He sounded frightened of his own emotions, as if he’d never expected to feel them again.

  She understood his fear and what it was costing him to feel his passions again. They both needed healing, and they could attain it only from each other.

  She loved him despite it all. She’d never stopped loving him. She needed to tell him. “I love you, Cailean. I love you.”

  With delicate mastery that ignited tiny fires below her navel, he kissed her lower lip, then dipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, possessing her in a way no man ever had before.

  She could feel every rock-hard inch of him and something so deeply primitive washed over her, she hardly recognized herself.

  She wanted to give herself to him. She’d never felt anything like the power of it before. She loved the dominant strength that pinned her. She wanted him inside her, filling her.

  With boldness born of pure desire, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his thighs.

  His slow, seductive smile nearly caused her to come undone.

  Clutching him close, she rubbed her body against his and then startled at the feel of his heavy cock at h
er moist entrance.

  He stared into her eyes. “What would I ever do withoot ye in m’ life, m’ beloved? I would die fer ye, kill fer ye.”

  Her heart answered as she arched her back and offered herself to him.

  Watching her ecstasy with smoky, hooded eyes, he entered her gently, knowing she was a flower yet to fully bloom. His lips were gentle at first, his tongue stroking, teasing the inside of her mouth. His teeth traced the delicate curve of her chin, then down to her neck, and lower still, where he stopped to nibble before feverishly finding her breasts. He kissed and suckled her and made her writhe beneath him. He slid his hands under her, cupping her buttocks tightly, pushing her up closer to take her more deeply. He withdrew slowly, then sank inside her again and again, each time deeper than the one before.

  She wasn’t prepared for the pain of being torn in two by his substantial arousal. She pressed her palm to his chest to stop him, though she wanted more, ached for more.

  He slowed and lifted her hand to kiss her fingers.

  Poised above her, he shared her breath and consumed her in his loving embrace. He moved slowly, patiently, and when she cried out, he whispered how much he loved her again and again, stroking her face with the backs of his fingers.

  His touch and his words made her quiver in his arms and fueled her desire.

  Soon she forgot the pain and relaxed in his strong embrace, feeling safe, knowing he would never hurt her again or allow anyone else to do so.

  She watched him, staring deep into his eyes with each slow, scintillating thrust of his body.

  “Ye brought me back to life, m’ love,” he told her quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

  She smiled, her gaze never leaving his as they moved to nature’s rhythm, becoming one pulsing body.

  He pushed harder, sinking deeper, like the waves of a tumultuous sea rocking her back and forth, until she shuddered and clung to him.

  How could she have ever thought she hated him? Why, he meant more to her than her own life. Her breath came harder as her pleasure increased. Her muscles convulsed around him, each one’s heart quickening at the sight of the other coming undone.

  She could hear his breath, hard and shallow, as though he were giving her everything he had, everything he was. And then he threw his marvelous head back and shut his eyes tightly as he found release inside her. He came down and gasped into her neck and Temperance smiled, closing her eyes at the power he had given her to please him.

  In the flickering candlelight, he promised they weren’t done.

  In the aftermath they lay wrapped in each other’s arms. Temperance listened to his breath, his heart beating against his chest, his soft, deep voice telling her how she made him feel.

  “I didna think ye would ever fergive me,” he told her, his warm breath close to her mouth.

  “I didn’t think so either,” she admitted, looking into his fathomless blue-gray eyes. “My trust in you was shattered.”

  She traced her finger over the downward sweep of his thick dark lashes when he looked away.

  She smiled, loving him all the more because of how he seemed to melt at the sight of her. “I didn’t know how you felt. That you loved me and that you were suffering because you hurt me.”

  He closed his eyes as if her words pained him. “M’ love seemed insignificant compared to what I’d done,” he said softly, opening his eyes to gaze at her again.

  “So tell me,” she said softly, tracing her fingertips over his chest. “Would you truly give up your life for me?”

  He ran his hands down her back, over her bare buttocks, wedging her closer. “Aye, Tem, I would.”

  “I don’t want you to,” she whispered, kissing his face. “I want to spend my nights in your arms and wake up to your smile each morning. I want…”

  “Aye?” he asked, running his hand down her thigh.

  His touch tickled and she buried her face in his neck and giggled.

  “What else do ye want, lass?”

  “I want to live a life filled with passion and laughter with you.”

  He dipped his mouth to her throat and began kissing her there. She could feel his renewed desire against her, huge and ready, and she gave herself over to it.

  He spread her with his deft fingers and stroked her tight bud until she writhed and cried out his name.

  That touch, so primal, so intoxicating, quaked her to her soul.

  He moved her to lie flat on her back and then bent his body to her, kissing a scorching path over the peaks of her erect nipples, pausing there to lick and suck her until she grasped fistfuls of his hair and gasped.

  He didn’t stop but continued, lower. He kissed her sensitive skin and then slowly, sensually licked and scraped his teeth against her until she bucked beneath him. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders and arched her back. Oh, what was he doing to her that she would spread herself wide beneath him?

  His kisses grew more passionate as he laved his tongue over her most intimate place. She tried to wiggle away, embarrassed that she took such pleasure in such a scandalous touch. He held her still with his big, capable hands and drew her into his warm mouth. His hunger burned her until she felt wholly consumed in flames. He drank from her, nibbled an excruciating path over her again and again. It didn’t take much more for her to find release at the tip of his titillating tongue.

  She lay spent and shaking beside him. “Cailean,” she asked quietly while he slid up beside her once again, “do other men and women practice such intimacy?”

  He shrugged. “So I’ve been told by m’ brother. Before he fell in love with his bride, he was known for practicin’ much and with many lasses.”

  “And now?”

  “Now,” he told her, kissing a soft tendril of her hair. “Now he practices only with her.”

  “Mayhap,” she said shyly, “we can practice more.”

  He grinned, sparking her belly with a thousand embers. “We can practice as often as ye’d like.”

  She nodded and then laughed at the sound of her belly rumbling. “First I’d like something to eat. I’m spoiled by yours and Gram’s cooking. The food here is bland.”

  He rose up, leaving her cold from his absence. “I’ll go fetch some fruit. The cook here cannot spoil that.”

  She smiled and watched him dress, loving his tight belly and muscular arms and legs.

  Planting another kiss on her forehead, he promised to return to her soon and left the room.

  Cailean didn’t make it to the kitchen before Dougal and Erik abducted him. They held him still with the edges of their daggers pressed close to his throat while the lord appeared before him, his dark eyes hard and merciless.

  “What the hell is goin’ on?” Cailean demanded. Had they seen him coming from Temperance’s room?

  “Cutty is dead. He was poisoned,” Edward told him. “And I am assured that it was by your hand. Tell me it isn’t true and you will have your freedom.”

  Cailean closed his eyes. Temperance had indeed poisoned him then.

  “Aye,” he said, opening his eyes to look Edward Murdoch straight in the eye. “’Tis true.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Temperance didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until the pounding on her door woke her up later that day.

  “A moment, please!” she called out, scrambling out of bed and hurrying to dress.

  The knocking came again, this time followed by Patrick’s impatient voice. “Temp, hurry!”

  Immediately her heartbeat quickened and she ran to the door to open it. When she saw Patrick’s pale expression she knew something was terribly wrong. Where was Cailean? Why hadn’t he returned to her?

  “What is it?” she demanded. “Where is Cailean?”

  “In the dungeon.” Patrick rushed into her room and shut the door. “He was taken prisoner fer the death of Cutty Ross.”

  “What?” All color drained from her face. No! She’d poisoned her father’s killer in the great hall. She’d put enough nightshade
into his cup to see the task done by nightfall. How did they know he’d been poisoned? She’d hoped he’d simply die in his sleep.

  “No, Patrick, this can’t be! ’Twas I who poisoned him! I must go to the lord and tell him the truth!”

  She tried to push past him, but Patrick’s arm holding her back was strong.

  “Ye canna do that, lass.”

  “But I must! I won’t have Cailean pay for my crime!”

  “I spoke to Cailean already. That’s why I’m here. He has forbidden ye to confess.”

  “What?” she practically shrieked at him. “I don’t care what he’s forbidden! I won’t let him—”

  “Temperance, hear me,” Patrick commanded, taking her by the shoulders. “The lord is fond of Cailean and will spare him. But ye…” He paused and shook his head at her, telling her what he didn’t want to say. He said it anyway. “If ye confess, he’ll deduce that ye likely poisoned his son as well and ye’ll be hanged, mayhap Gram with ye. Ye must keep silent.”

  Tears formed above the rims of her eyes. “Oh, Patrick, I cannot. What will be done to Cailean? Will he be released, then?”

  She knew the answer before Patrick lowered his gaze from hers.

  “He’s confessed, lass—”

  No! She backed away when he released her and fell back against the nearest wall, shaking her head. “Why? Why would he—”

  “To save ye,” he answered quietly. “Mayhap even to save the people of Linavar. Edward might no’ believe ye were alone in this.” He continued even as her tears fell freely. “Cailean is willin’ to… he’s to be whipped tomorrow at midday.”

  Whipped? Dear God, no! Oh, what had she done? She was the monster now and Cailean was going to pay for it! “Nay, Patrick,” she cried. “I cannot let him do this for me. I will tell Murdoch that I acted alone. I will tell him—”

  “Ye’ll tell him nothin’, lass.” His green eyes fixed on her, stilling her movements to flee past him and go to the lord. “Cailean would never fergive me, and I wouldna fergive m’self. He’ll take the lashes and live, and then we’ll all get the hell oot of here, as I’ve wanted from the beginnin’.”