Wildly Romantic: A Multi-Genre Collection

by Lana Williams

  But then, he released her chin and lay back on the pallet. “But I willna,” he said.

  Her eyes popped open and she frantically grabbed for the wine he’d set on the bedside table.

  “Mayhap you’d like some more wine,” she said, reaching over him to get it.

  His hand grabbed her arm and when she turned to look at him, she saw a fierceness in his eyes that led her to believe he knew what she’d done.

  “If ye want te couple wit’ me, why dinna ye jest tell me te me face instead o’ tryin’ te trick me wit’ yer witchery?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” He let go of her arm and she backed away from him on the pallet.

  “Ye’re forgettin’ what a bad liar ye are. Besides, I happened upon Morag in the hall on the way up here and she canna keep her mouth shut in more ways than one.”

  “What do you mean?” She rubbed her arm and looked down to the pallet knowing he wasn’t going to buy her innocent act.

  “She told me she read the charm fer ye, but what she didna tell ye was thet she added a few things thet werena in there at all.”

  “Oh.” She forced a smile. “So . . . I’m guessing the part about turning in a circle naked wasn’t really in there?”

  He just shook his head, his eyes staring right at her all the while.

  “And there was . . . no purring involved either, was there?” She looked up to see him shaking his head again, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, feeling more of a fool than the court jester. “I just wanted you to like me again. I just wanted to feel . . . happy. With you. Together.”

  “Why no’ jest say it, lassie? Ye wanted te feel me manhood inside ye and ye wanted te scream out in passion the way ye did in the cave?”

  “It’s true. I do.” She still couldn’t look at him, and a tear escaped her eye.

  He scooted over to her on the pallet, and reached out and wiped the tear from her cheek with his thumb.

  “Ask me,” he said.

  “Ask you?” She looked up and met his gaze.

  “Tell me what ye want. I want te hear it.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “Aye, ye can. Now do it. I wanna hear ye say exactly want ye want, and dinna leave anythin’ out.”

  “I do want you, Onyx,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. “I want you to take me in your arms and kiss me the way you did in the cave. I want to feel safe in your embrace and feel the warmth of our naked bodies dancing together in the act of making beautiful love.”

  “What else?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said, starting to cry. She felt as if she couldn’t admit anything else right now.

  “Look at me, Love.” He tilted her chin up until she did just that. “What else?”

  “I want to feel your hardness inside me and I want to feel the burning passion that is felt between two lovers. I want to cry out your name when I find my release, and I want to feel your lifeseed spilling into me and making me feel alive and whole . . . and . . . loved.”

  That’s all Onyx needed to hear. He pulled her toward him and pressed his mouth to hers in a punishing kiss. He needed to feel everything she’d just told him she wanted, as well. Only he needed it even more than she did.

  “That’s all I wanted,” he told her, laying her back on the pallet, slowly taking away her towel and removing his as well. “I jest needed te hear someone say thet, lassie, as I have ne’er heard it afore in me entire life.”

  They kissed, and his tongue entered her mouth, and she opened, willingly accepting him into her. He lifted his leg and straddled her, feeling his manhood harden instantly. Then he ran a hand over her hair, his eyes locked with hers, and he felt as if he were falling into her wishes, into her life. And they were about to become one and the same.

  “I’ve never said that to anyone,” she admitted, and that, to him meant more than anything. He’d never had a woman want him for who he was. And he knew her feelings were genuine because he could always tell when she was lying.

  He let his hand skim down her shoulder and he gently ran his fingers over a nipple, delighting in watching her become taut by his action. She reached out and touched him on the chest, slipping her hands around his back. He instantly felt the connection, and he swore his skin sizzled with heat as the friction between them heightened with both of them exploring each others bodies.

  He kissed her once again, and this time she pulled him closer, and to his surprise, let her tongue reach out this time. This excited him, and he pulled back slightly and licked his lips, savoring the flavor of her essence, never wanting to forget it, and only wanting to taste more.

  “I canna wait much longer,” he told her. “Ye have me so excited they I feel as if I am ready te burst.”

  “You don’t need to wait,” she told him. “I am more than ready. See for yourself.” She took his hand and guided it between her thighs, and as she opened her legs for him his hand settled atop her womanhood, hot, wet, and ready. “Take me, please,” she begged him, lifting her hips to meet his hand. “Make me scream. I need to feel you inside of me right now, and I can’t wait any longer.”

  He knew it was no time to play games with her, but though he was enjoying this as much as her, he needed to make her know that he didn’t appreciate her deception earlier.

  “Purr like a kitten,” he told her, meaning to punish her, but just the thought of the action was getting him excited.

  “What?” she asked, with her mouth hanging open in surprise.

  “Ye were willin’ te do it te lure me into yer bed, now I want te hear ye purr if ye really want this. Loud.”

  He had been so excited when she purred earlier, that he’d wanted to throw her to the ground and drive himself into her, but he’d just pretended like it hadn’t affected him. But just thinking about it had him growing even harder, and he had to hear her do it again.

  “Onyx, please don’t make me do this.”

  He reached out and gently rubbed his fingers down her body, teasing her, taunting her, causing her to squirm. Her breathing deepened when he took his other hand and let it rub against her nether regions at the same time.

  “Oh, please,” she begged, spreading her legs wider.

  “It . . . excites me lassie. Now purr fer me, please,” he said, rolling the r’s off his tongue as he said the word purr.

  “I’ll do it if you stop teasing me. I’ll do anything you want right now, just please don’t pull away. Purrrrrr,” she said meekly.

  “Louder,” he said, entering her just enough for her to feel it and then pulling back out. He watched her throw back her head and close her eyes.

  “Purrrr,” she said louder, trying to pull him back to her. Then she looked right at him, her eyes wild and dangerous just like his pet kitten, and growled like a wildcat, just about driving him from his mind.

  He could no longer hold back, as his teasing and tempting her had only done the same to him. He drove into her deeply, pulling back and thrusting, meeting her hips as she rose up to meet him each time.

  “Och, me Lady Love, ye make me more of a madman than I already am.”

  She reached out and raked her nails gently against his back, not only sounding like a feline but acting like one too, and raising her legs around him, gripping him tightly with her thighs.

  His body tingled and his world spun as he let loose with his pent up emotions and found the release he needed. She screamed out just then, and he knew that she had been sated as well.

  Tawpie woke up from the foot of the pallet, and looked at them and let out a purr of her own. They both looked and each other and laughed. He pulled her atop him where she could feel less restrained, falling onto his back in the process. Then she did something that both surprised and please him. She mounted his leg and by nothing more than rubbing against him was brought to climax once more.

  “I love you, Onyx,” she said, as she once again found her release.

  Her words shocke
d him, as no lassie had ever told him that before. He just stayed silent. She then collapsed atop him and they held each other in a lovers’ embrace, coming back down from the high peaks they’d climbed.

  “I love you,” she whispered against his chest, the feel of her breath warm against his skin.

  He knew she was waiting for him to say the words in return, but he couldn’t. Her words scared him, and he didn’t scare easily. But this was something even his mother had never said to him his entire life. These were forces he knew not how to handle, and he felt as if he were no longer in control.

  He couldn’t say the words back to her, though he knew if he did, it probably would have been better than saying nothing at all. Still, he didn’t know what love was. And he felt that if he said he loved her too, he’d be vulnerable and he could not allow any more hurt lately.

  He had the most wonderful, beautiful woman in his arms, telling him the words he’d always dreamed some lassie would say to him some day. But instead of feeling joyful and elated, he felt like he was suffocating again. Like he was in a box with no air to breathe, and he didn’t know how to make that feeling go away.

  He felt his little death spell coming on from this whole episode, the anxiety starting to overtake him. He didn’t want to embarrass himself by dying every time they made love, and he knew he had to do something about it quickly before it was too late.

  He took a deep breath and released it, but her words kept echoing inside his head. He didn’t know if he loved her, He didn’t even know if he trusted her. All he knew was that she brought out feelings in him he’d never known, and made him question things about himself he never would have thought twice of before now.

  He pushed out from under her and scooted off the pallet. He quickly pulled on his clothes, feeling like he needed to get out of there fast. His head was starting to get dizzy, and he felt as if he were about to retch. It would only be moments before his death spell overtook him, now. Damn, why did this have to be happening now?

  “Where are you going?” she asked so innocently, that he wanted nothing more than to climb right back atop her and repeat what they’d just done.

  “I need some air,” he said, pulling on his boots and standing and donning his weaponbelt as well.

  “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, and he could see the confusion and the tears in her eyes. He didn’t want to leave her this way, not now, but he just had to.

  “Nay, lassie, ye did nothin’ wrong. Now get some sleep as we’ll leave for England first thing in the mornin’.”

  He had his hand on the door and his back to her when she stopped him with her next words.

  “Onyx. I meant what I said, but you don’t have to love me back. It’s all right.”

  Why’d she have to say that? Didn’t she know she was only making this harder for him? He felt as if the air was knocked right from his lungs, and if she said anything else to him he knew he’d fall dead on the floor.

  “Get some sleep,” was all he said, then left the room quickly, closing the door behind him.

  Chapter 12

  Lovelle could have kicked herself for telling Onyx she loved him. But it was what she was feeling at the moment and she just kind of blurted it out. Twice. But when she’d seen how upset he was by it, she knew he was feeling confused. And rightfully so, as the man had gone through so much in the last day alone, finding out about being abandoned by his true family.

  She understood that mayhap he wasn’t ready for this. That’s why she tried to tell him that it was fine if he didn’t love her too. But she only seemed to make things worse, and instead of spending the night in each others arms as she’d hoped for, he’d now left her. She felt so alone.

  She jumped off the pallet and dressed quickly, knowing she needed to find Onyx and be with him right now. She only hoped she could convince him to come back to the room, and straighten out this whole mess before he did something crazy.

  She pulled open the door and ran down the stairs, entering the busy pub, looking around the room for him.

  “What’ve we got here?” asked a Scot well in his cups, reaching out for her, but she dodged him and ran to the drink board where Callum MacKeefe was pouring a drink for another Scot. The whore she’d talked to earlier, the one Onyx had said was Morag, sat on a Scot’s lap, playing with his long hair.

  “Excuse me,” she said, getting Callum’s attention. “Did you see Onyx come down here at all?”

  “Nay,” answered the pubkeeper, too busy pouring drinks to talk.

  “Did ye do the laddie wrong, ye fool?” asked Morag, looking up to her in question.

  “I didn’t mean to,” she said. “I . . . I’m not sure. But I need to find him and talk to him quickly.”

  The burly Scot buried his face in the whore’s cleavage, and she laughed and pushed his head away. “No’ afore ye pay, ye tight arse.” She slipped off the man’s lap and straightened her gown, looking around for another customer.

  “Please,” Lovelle said, walking up and tapping the girl on the shoulder. “Do you know where I can find him?”

  “Well, if I ken Onyx, he’s somewhere in the outdoors. He disna like te be enclosed fer long. Try outside. Mayhap the stables, as I’ve had a guid time there once or twice wit’ him meself.”

  It sickened her to think Onyx had coupled with this whore, but she didn’t have time to worry about it now.

  “Thank you,” she said, turning to go, but Morag stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

  “Take this, as yer fair skin will freeze fast since ye’re no’ used te the weather.” She took her own cloak from the back of a chair and handed it to Lovelle. “And whate’er ye do, stay away from the MacDonalds, as they are all drunk tonight. If ye need te talk te anyone, the MacKeefes are the only ones te be trusted.”

  “But how do I tell them apart?” she asked, seeing the sea of plaids in the pub, every one of them looking not much different than the other since they all looked black, white and grey to her.

  “By the color, lassie. The MacKeefes are the only ones wearing green and purple here tonight.” She went back to her clients before Lovelle could relay to her that she couldn’t tell the difference.

  She decided to go anyway, as Onyx needed her right now. She threw the whore’s cloak around her and pulled the hood over her head, and quickly headed out to the stables.

  She got to the stables and once inside, saw the back of a Scot that looked like Onyx. She rushed up to him, and without thinking, grabbed his arm. “Come back to the room with me,” she pleaded. But when he turned around, she realized she’d made a bad mistake.

  “It’s me lucky day,” said the man she thought was Onyx. But this Scot was ugly and big and smelled strongly from whisky. “Aye, we can go te the room or why no’ jest do it right here, hoor?”

  “What ye got there, Ross?” came another voice, and two more Scots walked out from inside a stall.

  “I got meself a hoor fer free.”

  “I’m sorry, I mistook you for someone else.” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm and spun her around. His eyes were angry and his teeth broken and black.

  “Ye’re no’ goin’ anywhere lassie til me and me friends have had yer services.”

  “I’m not a whore. I’m an English lady,” she tried to convince him.

  “I know that cloak,” said one of the others. “She’s a hoor alright.”

  Lovelle realized they thought she was Morag, and she also realized there was no way she could fight off three lusty, drunken Scots, especially since she hadn’t even had time to don her dagger.

  Before she knew what was happening, the Scotsman threw her down against the pile of hay and pushed up her skirts and was pressing up against her.

  “Let me go first,” said another of the men, lifting his plaid, and she could see they were not like Onyx, as they wore nothing underneath.

  “Leave me alone!” She fought against them, but the third one grabbed her arms and held them over her head.

>   “Go ahead, I’ll hold her fer ye and ye can do the same for me,” he told his friends.

  “Help!” she cried out, tears streaming down her eyes. “Someone, please help me.”

  Onyx was saddling his horse in the stall, planning on going for a ride to clear his head when he thought her heard a lassie’s voice calling for help, and it sounded a lot like Lovelle.

  He peered across the darkened stables and saw Morag’s cloak, and figured she was just pretending to need help to excite the men as she did her tricks with three of the Lowlanders at once. He turned around and just shook his head in disgust. He wouldn’t have given it another thought, hadn’t the girl called out his name next, sounding an awful lot like Lovelle.

  “Love? Is thet ye?” He mounted his horse quickly and busted out of the stall directly toward the Scotsmen.

  “Onyx!” she cried when she saw him, and he only hoped he wasn’t too late. He pulled on the reins and his horse reared up, taking down the man who was holding her arms. Then he dove atop the second one, and since the man’s hands were raising his plaid instead of on his weapon, he was able to get him to the ground, punching him repeatedly in the face until he passed out.

  He felt the third Scot’s tight grip as his hands came around his throat, and anxiety coursed through him when he realized he couldn’t breathe.

  “Leave him alone,” shouted Lovelle, picking up a pitchfork and rushing toward him. The man easily unarmed her, giving Onyx time to pull his sword from his belt.

  He fought the Scot who had also pulled his sword, only it was a claymore and twice as big.

  “Stay back,” he told Lovelle, worrying for her safety. Then when he realized he was no match for the man, he pulled his dagger with his other hand and jumped atop a wooden stool, slashing his weapons through the air like a madman. He fought with both hands, trying to unarm him. And when he got nicked and started to bleed, he heard Lovelle scream.

  He lunged forward, managing to bring the large man to the ground, and was just about to drive his sword into the Scot’s heart when Lovelle stopped him.