Lords of the Isles

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Zounds! They were going to make love, and she was desperate for it. Wanted to feel every part of his body. Wanted to kiss him like this forever.

  Macrath gripped her hands and pressed them to his chest. “Do you feel how hard my heart beats for you, Laird MacRae?”

  Ceana mirrored his movements, putting his hand to her breast. “And mine for you, Son of Fortune.”

  Macrath grinned. It was both endearing and wicked, and just for her. “I want to make your heart beat faster.”

  His thumb brushed over her puckered nipple, and Ceana drew in a deep breath as tingles shivered over her skin. “You already are.”

  “Not even close.” He leaned up, capturing her mouth once more.

  Ceana wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him. He explored her breasts, her nipples, ribs and waist. He slipped his hand beneath her gown, sliding up the slope of her calf to the underside of her knee. Everywhere he touched gooseflesh followed. As he caressed her, kissed her, he moved, arching his body along hers and then retreating. Ceana followed his lead, rocking her pelvis over his, gasping with each tease of his hard shaft. And she wanted to feel more. Wanted to know what it would be like for his naked skin to touch hers.

  She tugged at his shirt, pulling the bottom from his plaid, and running her fingers over his bare chest. The slight brush of hair tickled her fingertips. She slid her thumb over his nipple like he’d done to her. Ran her nails gently over the dips and curves of his muscled chest and abdomen. Marveled at the corded sinew of his shoulders and back. His skin was smooth, but rough, compared to hers.

  Macrath pulled suddenly away from her, his hands cupping the side of her face, eyes serious. “I pledge myself to you, lass. Now and forever. I want you to be my wife.”

  Ceana nodded slowly. Both earnestly and emphatically, she said, “Now and forever, I want you to be my husband.”

  “And if a child is born of this, I will not make a bastard of it.”

  “As the gods as our witnesses, we are trothed to each other, and our child will not be named a bastard.”

  “Och, gods, lass.” Macrath wrapped his arms around her, captured her lips in a demanding kiss.

  With an arm around her waist, and the other bracing himself on the side, he hoisted her into the air and rolled her onto her back, hovering above her. The sand beneath her back was warmed from where he’d sat, but even if it wasn’t, her skin was aflame from the fire of his touch.

  He settled his weight between her thighs, and his lips to the side of her neck where her pulse beat wildly. She bit her lip, nervous. Her fingers trembled when she touched him. But this was what she wanted. This man. This moment. With her next breath, she let her inhibitions take flight with her fear. Ceana tilted her head, gasped at the flicker of his tongue, stroked her hands down his strong back.

  Macrath continued to rock against her, over her, all around her. She arched her back, let her knees fall wider. This was what it had to be like in heaven, high up in the clouds in paradise. When his teeth scraped seductively over her collarbone, her eyes popped open as she moaned with pleasure.

  The morning sky had cleared to a silky blue, nearly the same color as Macrath’s eyes. Fingers of shining golden sunlight streaked in prism-like wonder. Almost as though the gods were shining down on them, blessing their union, their promise.

  “I wanted our first time to be perfect. A feather-tick bed, roaring fire, sweet wine and sweet fruit,” Macrath whispered against her over-sensitized flesh. “I wanted to make love to you slowly, over and over again. But instead, I’m afraid to remove any of your clothes and freeze you to death. Forgive me?”

  Ceana threaded her fingers through his hair, stroking him tenderly. “There is nothing to forgive. You’re all I need.” And she meant it. No amount of soft beds or sweets could make this moment any more perfect than it already was.

  “You do not understand how much it means to hear you say it. Och, lass, mo cridhe… I want to keep you in my arms forever, safe.”

  I love you.

  The look in his eye, vulnerable and filled with… If she had to swear on her own death, she’d say that Macrath loved her, too.

  “Shh… Let us live today as though it were every day. Today we are Prince and Princess of Sìtheil.” Ceana lifted up, brushing her lips over Macrath’s jaw, licking the scrape of bristles. She kissed his neck in the same place he’d kissed hers, feeling the way his pulse beat against her mouth. She tasted the salt on his skin.

  Macrath nuzzled her neck and the slope of her breasts. He massaged one globe and then the other, tugging lightly at her gown and exposing the creamy swells one inch at a time until the pink tip of her nipple was free. He groaned and dipped his mouth to taste. The velvet heat of his tongue stroking her skin had her crying out, arching against him. She lifted her legs, tilted her hips, wanting so much more of the pleasure he gifted her.

  “Oh, Macrath,” she murmured. Was it possible to love him more with every breath?

  While he laved at her breasts, he worked his fingers up her legs, leaving chills of anticipation racing up and down her limbs until he touched her center. He leisurely tugged her skirt up until it was bunched around her hips. Even the chill of the air couldn’t take away from the heat of the moment. With the pad of his thumb he stroked over the knot of flesh that sent spirals of heat careening through her. Her thighs quivered, womb contracted. Soft moans escaped her lips between pants.

  What magic his touch was.

  “You’re ready for me, lass,” he said.

  “Aye,” she answered.

  Macrath untied his belt, and unraveled his plaid, pulling it over the both of them, capturing their heat within its span. He resettled himself between her thighs, the hotness of his thick shaft making her shudder against him.

  “Och, gods, you feel so good.” Macrath pressed his lips to hers, teasing her with his teeth and tongue. He grabbed hold of her hand and brought it to his turgid flesh. “I want you to guide me in. I want you to be in control of bringing us together.”

  Ceana panicked a moment, unsure of what she was supposed to do. But, his hand was still over hers, and so she guided him toward the part of herself that felt so delicious when he stroked her.

  “Almost, love.” He guided her hand lower until the tip of his flesh pushed against a barrier. “Are you ready?”

  Ceana nodded. Macrath drew in a deep breath and then thrust forward. A pinch of pain throbbed as he speared her, and she gasped, eyes flying open to stare at the radiant sky.

  “Are you all right?”

  She couldn’t answer. She was too shocked. It had felt amazing until that point. Now she wanted him to stop. She gritted her teeth, blinking away the dampness in her eyes.

  “The pain will not last long, or at least that is what I’m told. Please, tell me, are you all right?”

  She met his gaze, and nodded meekly. The pain was beginning to subside.

  “I’ll not move until you’re ready, love.” True to his word, he kept his hips still, but nibbled at her ear and kissed her neck. He brushed his lips over her mouth making her forget all about the pain.

  Love. He kept calling her that. He did love her. The thought lightened her heart and sent warmth rushing through her.

  Ceana was the first to move, tilting her hips, and gasping at how that subtle movement made sparks shoot through her.

  “Wrap your legs around me,” he said.

  She pulled her legs up, tucking them around his hips, causing him to sink inside her another inch.

  “Oh, Macrath,” she murmured, pressing her lips to his neck, his shoulder.

  “Does it feel good?” He rocked against her, pulling his hips back and then sliding slowly forward.

  “Oh, aye…”

  “Good, because I’ve never felt anything like this.”

  And neither had she. It was… tremendous, magically life-changing.

  Macrath kissed her tenderly, threaded his fingers in hers, stroked a light and tingle-inducing line down her arm
to her elbow and then back again. As he moved inside her, he kissed her fingertips, murmured encouraging words in her ears. Told of how she made him feel. It was enough to make her dizzy with passion. Inside, an unimaginable pressure grew, making her thighs shake, her insides quiver. He increased his pace, his soft moans and panting breath mingling with hers. She could barely breathe as he brought her higher and higher.

  Until finally—it hit her like a Highland avalanche, whisking her up in its tumultuous tumble, crashing down around her, startling and staggering, it buried her.

  But he was right there to lift her back up. Cradling her hips in his hands, he drove inside her several more times and then he, too, appeared to be tumbled. He thrust deep inside her, letting out a groan that made her quiver all over again.

  Macrath slowed over her, pressing sweet kisses to her forehead and then her lips.

  “You’re exquisite,” he murmured. “I’ve never known a woman like you.”

  “What’s this?”

  Ceana startled from her haze of languid tranquility to see an unfamiliar face looming nearby. What was happening? When had he gotten there? How much had he seen?

  “Victor.” Macrath growled, his gaze on the man, then he roared. “Get out of here.”

  Ceana gasped, remembering at once the man who’d stood at the dais that morning. As she’d suspected, this was Macrath’s half-brother. There were subtle similarities about them—perhaps the color of their hair—but the way they carried themselves was completely different. She would not have been able to guess they were brothers other than Macrath’s confession.

  Victor tilted his head back, laughed and clapped slowly, his vile gaze raking over their bodies covered by Macrath’s plaid.

  “Och, brother, ’tis you who ought to be getting out of there. Having a nice fuck?”

  Macrath’s entire body stiffened, and seemed to go up about ten degrees. The vein in his neck pulsed.

  Ceana pressed her hand to his chest, wishing to impart some sense of calm over him, but knowing at the same time doing so was futile. Macrath was angrier than she’d seen him on the battlefield. She genuinely was concerned for Victor’s life. From the sound of it, the arse needed a good thrashing, but doing so would only injure Macrath’s future in the games.

  “He’s only goading you,” she whispered.

  Even still, Macrath slipped from beneath his own plaid and stood on the beach, his shirt going to his mid-thighs and covering the part of him that had just been inside her. Fists clenched, jaw muscle bouncing, through bared teeth, he said, “Best you get back to the castle, Victor.”

  “Och, but I’m having so much fun watching you. So’s the sneak up on the dune.” Victor tilted his chin upward.

  Ceana glanced up, but could see no one. Either he was lying, or the beautiful moments they’d just enjoyed had been spied on by more than solely Macrath’s nasty brother.

  “Might do you well to return to the tents. I have some news for the council.” Victor winked at Ceana and then turned on his heel.

  A burning, nauseating, sensation took up in her belly as she gazed between her fuming warrior and the retreating figure of his malevolent brother.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Bloody bastard.” Macrath had gritted his teeth so hard, his jaw pulsed with pain. Nothing was ever easy in his life.

  The moments of beauty and peace he’d found had been interrupted and a haze of black smoke choked him. Victor had gone back up over the dune and disappeared from sight. He glanced behind him where Ceana had pushed off his plaid and stood, smoothing her smudged gown. Fear pinched her lips and around her eyes.

  “ ’Twill be all right,” he said, knowing that he lied. He was going to be punished. Most likely by both Leticia and Lady Beatrice.

  “I’m not naïve enough to believe you.” Ceana stepped up beside him and held out his plaid. “Your brother wants to hurt you. He won’t take anything less.”

  Macrath took the plaid and laid it out on the ground to pleat it. “He’s no brother of mine. Blood doesn’t betray blood.”

  Ceana bent to help him. “But I think they do. Think of past history. Brother fought against brother to rule clans. Father against son. Cousin against cousin. Mother against daughter. There is no shortage of blood feuds.” She reached out and touched his arm, the contact soothing. “That does not make it right. There is nothing worse than being betrayed and believing you are utterly alone. But, you are no longer alone. I am with you.”

  Macrath nodded, his mouth a grim slash. He didn’t want her to get hurt, and he was terrified that her allegiance to him would do just that. Hell, she’d already been abused by the guards because of him. He donned his plaid and helped her to dust the sand from her hair. They walked hand in hand up over the dune. From outward appearances, with the pipers tune, the smoke of several bonfires and the laughter floating on the breeze, one might have been tricked into thinking this were an actual clan Samhain celebration. But he knew better.

  Though he held her hand now, Macrath was certain that if Ceana were to have a chance at making it through the games, he would have to put some distance between them. He hated how callous that would seem. That he’d taken her maidenhead and thrust her aside, but it wasn’t like that at all. He just knew his family, and he’d caught more than a glimpse of Lady Beatrice’s true nature.

  Ceana would not last a day if any of them got their clutches on her.

  Halfway across the moor to the path, Aaron leapt in front of them, face red, chest heaving with his labored breathing. Ceana startled, her hand tightening in his. Macrath narrowed his eyes wondering if this had been the other person spying on them as they made love.

  “How dare you!” he growled at Macrath and swung out his fist.

  Ceana gasped, and Macrath caught the smaller guard’s hand in his fist, crushing his fingers.

  “What are you doing, Aaron?” Shock filled her words.

  “Exactly what he’s wanted to do from day one.” Macrath spoke through gritted teeth, bringing his face close to Aaron’s.

  “You let this animal touch you?” Aaron seethed.

  Ceana looked taken aback. “Excuse me?” Suspicions confirmed—Aaron had been the spy.

  “You let him put his hands all over you. Rut with you in the sand like a common whore.”

  Before Macrath had the chance to react, Ceana’s hand shot out, slapping Aaron hard in the face. Aaron reacted immediately, trying to wrench his hand from Macrath to hit Ceana. But Macrath wasn’t going to let that happen. He gripped Aaron by the throat, lifted him into the air and tossed him several feet away. When the man landed, red-faced and sputtering, he glared up at Macrath.

  Macrath stormed over, putting his foot on the man’s chest and leaned down. “Do not ever speak to her like that again. Do not dare to even think about putting your hands on her. Ceana will be my wife, and you’ll be lucky if I don’t kill you this day myself.”

  Aaron looked crestfallen. He glanced past Macrath to Ceana. “You’d marry this bastard?”

  Macrath turned around, suddenly fearing that she might change her mind. He was a bastard and she a laird, and he was likely the one who’d get her killed—hence the need for distance—but he still didn’t want to hear her say no. Then again, maybe it would be best for her and for her safety. And if that was what kept her alive, he’d gladly back away.

  “Aye. I will.” Ceana came forward, pressed a soft hand to Macrath’s shoulder and nudged until he stepped away from Aaron. She reached out her hand to him, but Aaron wouldn’t take it.

  He pushed away from her and stood. “Dougal would be ashamed of you. All the MacRaes will be when they find out.”

  Ceana shook her head. Sadness filled her eyes. “The only disappointment right now is that a close friend of my brother’s, my own personal guard, would harbor such ill will toward me.”

  Aaron reached out for her, but Ceana put up her hands. “Do not. You’ve already said your piece.”

  “My laird, I do not harbor ill wi
ll toward you.” He clutched his hands together, pleading.

  Her regard was of him was flat, and did not waver. “Your actions, your words, they say otherwise.”

  “I’ve only ever loved you. I wanted you to be my wife.”

  Ceana glanced toward the ground at his admission, his words obviously affecting her. “But that would never have happened. Don’t you see? My brother had plans for me to marry another laird. To bring a strong alliance to our clan. He’d just not yet narrowed it down. There was never a chance for us to be together.”

  Aaron looked frantic now as his world crashed down around him. “There was.”

  “When?” She looked genuinely confused.

  “I thought we’d win the games and then you’d have to marry me.”

  Ceana sighed. “If that had been the case, then after the five years I would have bid you farewell. I do not love you, Aaron.”

  “And you love this man?”

  Ceana glanced at Macrath and his chest tightened. Did she? For he loved her with every breath in his body. Her eyes were glassy with tears, intense with emotion. “I feel much for him. Yes.”

  She flicked her gaze back toward Aaron, but Macrath could not stop staring at her. She loved him. He loved her. A hasty courtship it had been, and yet they’d endured and survived more than any average couple ever would.

  Aaron clenched his fists, bared his teeth. The man was certainly having a hard time realizing he’d lost. And Macrath couldn’t seem to find his throat. There was so much he wanted to say, and yet he wanted to keep it all inside, because there was still the very real fact that Ceana’s life was in danger because of him.

  “Run away, Aaron. In the next game, just disappear, you’ll find a way. I’d hate for you to end up dead because of a notion you have about the two of us.”

  Aaron’s glare hardened and he shook his head. “Best of luck to you, then.” Venom laced every word, lending to the idea he didn’t truly mean it. He whirled toward the tents and charged away.

  “Will he also cause trouble for you?” Macrath asked. The list of those wishing her harm was growing longer and he was the central cause.