by Connie Mason
“I love you more, Gillian MacKay.”
Spreading her thighs, he bent to her again and captured her sweet essence with his mouth. He licked her swollen flesh, holding her grinding hips in place as he laved her with his tongue, his mouth sucking softly in a heated kiss.
Gillian cried out, rising to meet the invading lash of his rough tongue as he teased, licked, and stabbed liquid flame inside her. Sensation overwhelmed her, ravished her senses. An exquisite pleasure so intense it bordered on pain shot through her. She convulsed as his tongue continued to flick in and out, piercing her with fire.
Tamping down his grinding need, Ross probed and nibbled to his heart’s content. Her hot, sweet taste was intoxicating; her musky scent drove him wild. His body was ready to burst. He thrust his tongue deep inside her one last time and nearly lost control when she cried out, her hips thrusting up to meet his feasting mouth. Her climax released a primitive surge of love and lust inside him. Her cry of completion thrilled him. That he could satisfy his warrior woman so well was a sweet reward. That she could satisfy him so completely was even sweeter. He held her and kissed her as she writhed and twisted beneath him.
When the last tremor had passed, he tenderly placed a kiss on her stomach, marveling that his bairn could be growing within her slender body. “Are you all right, love? I didna harm the bairn, did I?”
Panting softly, Gillian said, “Our bairn is strong. Loving me willna hurt him.”
That was all Ross needed to hear. He placed a final kiss against her moist center, stretched over her, and settled in the cradle of her hips. His pulse pounding, he sank slowly into her, using teeth-grinding caution lest he hurt her. Her thighs clenched around him in joyful welcome.
“Can you take all of me, lass? Are you sure it willna hurt you or our bairn?”
“I amna a fragile blossom, Ross.”
Slowly, with great care, he penetrated her fully. He groaned and shuddered. She felt even better than she tasted.
His mouth settled over hers. Gillian tasted her scent on his lips and on his tongue. Her hands clutched at his broad back, and she writhed as he slid inside her. Her back arched, her eyes closing as her body caught fire again. She was only dimly aware of his voice murmuring love words against her mouth. This bold warrior of hers displayed his tender side as he told her he loved her, that he couldn’t live without her.
She clung to him, frantic with need, with hunger, with a passion that matched his. Moments later the incredible tension exploded, her ragged cry of completion piercing the stillness.
Ross stiffened and clamped his teeth together, his eyes closing as pleasure, so raw and so primitive it nearly undid him, ripped through him. He shouted her name, his body clenching and shuddering as he poured himself into her.
Fearing he would crush her, Ross rose up on trembling arms and lifted his suddenly boneless body off and away. Once his strength returned, he rose, lifted her into his arms, and carried her to their bed.
“You must be cold,” he said as he lay down beside her and pulled the covers up.
“I’m not cold.” Gillian sighed, cuddling up against him. “I’ve never been warmer.”
Ross gathered her in his arms, his hand resting on her stomach. “I vow that was as close as I will ever come to paradise.”
There came a knock on the door. “That will be our supper,” Gillian said. “I asked to have it brought to the solar. I didna want to share you with anyone tonight.”
Ross left the bed and pulled on his braies before opening the door. Alice brushed past him, carrying a tray, her face wreathed in smiles. Ross pulled a table before the hearth and asked Alice to set out the food. She did as Ross bade, sending Gillian a knowing grin before she left the chamber.
“Did everyone in the keep know what you planned tonight?”
“Not everyone. Does it matter?”
“Nay, not when the outcome pleased me so well.” He found her discarded robe and handed it to her, then pulled two chairs up to the table. “I doona know about you, but I am famished.”
He seated Gillian and himself, then heaped two plates high with slices of roasted fowl, boiled potatoes, creamed onions, and stewed apples sweetened with honey from last summer’s harvest.
Gillian ate ravenously, and when she finished, she leaned back in her chair and asked, “What are you going to do about Angus Sinclair? I know you’re not going to let the matter rest.”
Ross scowled. He didn’t want Angus Sinclair to spoil their reconciliation. “Leave that to your father and me. We doona intend to let Sinclair escape punishment.”
“What about Seana McHamish? Her evil shouldna go unpunished either.”
“Doona worry, love. Seana McHamish willna hurt you again. But, aye, we will deal with her as well as Sinclair.”
“Why can you nae tell me what—”
“Not now, lass. ’Tis off to bed with you. You need to rest, and I should speak with Gordo before retiring.” He rounded the table and held his hand out to her.
She placed her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. But once they reached the bed, she laughed up at him and pulled him down with her.
“A woman carrying a bairn can be verra temperamental. ’Tisna wise to deny her,” she teased. ”I amna tired, Ross. I would like us to love again, if you could manage it.”
Ross threw back his head and laughed. “With you, once will never be enough.”
Chapter Nineteen
Gillian welcomed the waning days of winter. Aside from feeling a wee bit more cumbersome due to the bairn growing inside her, she felt and looked well, her babe barely straining the front of her gown. And she had never been happier. Ross was the husband she had always longed for, her days were filled with moderate activity, and she had finally gained the respect of Ross’s kinsmen.
As the sun began to grow warmer and blades of grass pushed through the melting snow, an air of expectancy prevailed throughout the keep. Gillian sensed Ross’s restlessness and knew it had to do with Angus Sinclair. Highlanders were a vindictive lot, and Ross was no different. His thoughts never strayed far from Angus Sinclair and Seana McHamish and the retribution due them.
One night after a particularly mild day in early March, Ross slowly undressed Gillian and led her to their bed. Then he discarded his own clothing and proceeded to make sweet, slow love to her. His big hands were gentle as they caressed her swollen breasts and rounded stomach.
“You are lovelier now than when I first saw you, the day you faced me with a sword in your hand,” Ross whispered against her lips.
“I am clumsy and ungainly,” Gillian complained.
“In my eyes you are slim and beautiful. My bairn growing inside you doesna make you any less lovely. Gizela said it is safe to make love for some weeks yet.”
Gillian laughed up at him. “You asked her?”
“Aye, I amna verra knowledgeable about such things. Gizela said you are strong and healthy, and that naught we do will harm our bairn.”
Gillian pulled his hair, forcing his head down. “Then love me, husband. I doona want to waste time talking about it.”
He caught her chin between his fingers and lifted her mouth to his, drawing the very breath from her lungs.
“I am too heavy for you,” he said as he lifted her astride him. She opened her thighs and took him inside her. Her flaming hair fanned out over her shoulders and brushed the tips of her breasts enticingly as she rotated her hips and took him deeper.
“There has never been another lass like you,” Ross murmured hoarsely. “You are all woman, but as courageous as any warrior known to me.”
Their gazes met and clung as he moved inside her, blazing hot and intense. Raising his head, he took her nipple into his mouth, suckling her. His hands cupped her bottom, gently lifting her up and down his stiff cock. She was nearing the crest; he could tell by the increased rhythm of her breathing and the small cries escaping her throat. As she came apart in his arms, he watched the play of emotion on her lovely face, u
ntil he could contain himself no longer and spent himself inside her.
Later, as Gillian lay in his arms, she gazed up at him and asked, “Where has your mind gone?You left me after we made love.”
“Your perceptiveness amazes me, lass. Has Gizela taught you how to read minds?”
“I know you, Ross. I can tell when your mind is elsewhere. What is bothering you?”
“I willna lie. Tis time I dealt with Sinclair and the McHamish lass. I sent a message to Douglas McHamish. I wanted to know if he had any objection to his daughter returning to his keep after I dealt with her and Sinclair.”
“I sincerely doubt he wants Seana returned to him.”
“Aye, I ken that, but Seana is his daughter, and I wanted him to know I am ready to seek retribution. I also sent for your father, ’tis time to plan Sinclair’s punishment. Sinclair Keep isna easily defensible; it shouldna take long to roust the cur who hides within.”
“Da is coming here?” Gillian asked, clearly excited about seeing her father again.
“Aye, I knew you would like to see him, so I asked him to come here instead of my going there.”
Gillian rose up on her elbows and kissed Ross soundly on the lips. “I love you, Ross MacKenna. I bless the day my father offered me to you to seal the treaty. And I am verra happy I didna skewer you with my sword.”
“That wouldna have been possible, lass of mine. ”Twill be a cold day in hell when a woman, even a warrior woman, bests Ross MacKenna at swordplay. Now go to sleep, sweet lass, lest I think you are nae tired enough to sleep and find other ways to wear you out.”
“I amna tired, Ross,” Gillian teased. “Mayhap you should show me those other ways.”
Pulling her into his arms, Ross did exactly what he’d said he would. An hour later, both he and Gillian were sleeping soundly, arms and legs intertwined.
Tearlach MacKay arrived at Ravenscraig the next day with his usual bluster. He spied Gillian immediately and held his arms out to her. Gillian flew into them and breathed in his familiar scent. After a quick hug, he held her away from him and searched her face.
“You seem to be thriving, lass.”
Ross joined them, placing a possessive arm around Gillian’s waist. “Gillian and our bairn are well, MacKay, as you can plainly see. I’m glad you are here; we have plans to make.”
“Where is Murdoc, Da?” Gillian asked. “Has Mary had her bairn yet?”
“Nay, but her time grows near. Murdoc didna want to leave her. But I didna come alone, lass.”
Gillian glanced toward the door just as her brothers Ramsey and Nab entered the hall. “Ramsey, Nab!” she cried as the men rushed forth to greet her. “I thought you were in Edinburgh.”
Ramsey and Nab hugged Gillian in turn. “Och, lass,” Ramsey said, “town life and the king’s court didna please us. ’Twas an adventure, to be sure, but crowded cities doona hold the appeal of pure air or the natural beauty of moors ablaze with purple heather below snow-topped mountains.”
“Aye,” Nab agreed. “We had our taste of the big city and are happy to be home.”
“Tell them your news, Ramsey, lad,” Tearlach urged.
“Shall we sit? Gillian tires easily these days,” Ross said as he led them to the hearth, where extra chairs had hurriedly been set in place for the visitors.
“Now,” Ross said when each man had a tankard of ale in hand. “Tell us your news, Ramsey.”
“I brought a wife home,” Ramsey revealed. “A bonny lass with blue eyes and hair the color of a summer sunset.”
Surprise colored Gillian’s words. “Ramsey, you wed a Lowlander? I canna believe it of you.”
“Judith was born in the Highlands, Gillian,” Ramsey exclaimed. “She’s been living in Edinburgh with her father. He has a position in the king’s court. It was love at first sight for both of us.”
“Why did you nae bring her here to meet us?” Gillian asked with a hint of disappointment.
Color rose in Ramsey’s cheeks. “Judith is increasing and is often beset with sickness. I thought it best she not travel during the first stages of her pregnancy.”
“I am thrice blessed,” Tearlach bragged. “First our Mary will deliver and then Gillian, and not far behind, Judith.” He sent Nab a sidelong glance. “Does that not give you the urge to find a wife, Nab, lad?”
“I will in my own good time, Da.”
Tearlach straightened in his chair, all business now. “Your message said you were ready to roust Sinclair from his keep and exact retribution for the mischief he caused. As we agreed before, it will be a joint effort. Name the day you wish to begin the siege and my kinsmen and I will join you.
“Sinclair Keep is in shambles; he didna take care of it,” Tearlach continued. “I chastised him about it often enough, but he didna seem to care.” His expression grew thoughtful. “Mayhap he was waiting for Gillian’s dowry to make repairs to his keep.”
Ross made a harsh sound in his throat. “It matters not what he was waiting for. His punishment is long overdue.”
“Aye,” all three MacKay men agreed, raising their tankards as a sign of unity.
Ross, Tearlach, and their kin talked and drank and finally set a day to launch their siege. Since it would take a sennight to gather their kinsmen and see to their weapons, they mutually agreed to march to Sinclair Keep seven days hence.
“We will meet you at St. Tears Chapel,” Tearlach said.
Their plans made, the MacKays joined the MacKennas for the noon meal and then took their leave. Gillian hated to see her family go, but knew there was a great deal that had to be done before they waged war against Angus Sinclair.
“Think you Angus is expecting a siege?” Gillian asked when they retired that night.
“I would assume so,” Ross replied. He sent her a sharp look. “I ken you had tender feelings for the man at one time, but his evil deeds canna go unpunished.”
“My tender feelings died the day I met you, my love. I will pray for your success and a safe return. I canna bear to lose another loved one.”
“I doubt Sinclair will put up much of a fight. He is badly outnumbered. I wouldna be surprised if he surrenders without a fight when he sees the size of our army. Doona worry about it, Gillian; ’tisna good for the bairn. Naught will happen to me or your family, I promise.”
There came a knock on the door. Ross went to open it. “Gizela, what do you here? Is aught amiss?”
“Naught is amiss, except ...” She hesitated, then said, “I ‘saw’ Angus Sinclair dressed in battle gear.”
Ross cursed. “He knows we are coming and is preparing to fight. I had hoped to avoid bloodshed.”
“There willna be bloodshed, laird. Sinclair will die, but not by your hand.”
“You do try my patience, Gizela.” Ross sighed. “Please explain yourself.”
“I can only tell you that I saw no blood on your hands.”
She was gone before Ross could form his next question.
Ross shook his head. “I swear, that woman was put on this earth to bedevil me. I ken, however, that she is wise in many ways, so I willna dismiss her words out of hand.”
The next day Ross received McHamish’s answer to his message. He wrote that his wife had just given birth to a son, his heir, and they didn’t want Seana to return to their household. Whatever punishment Ross devised for Seana was agreeable to McHamish.
The following days were busy ones for Ross. The entire keep was preparing to go to war. Ross appointed Gordo, despite his protest, as guardian of the keep in his absence, and left five men to guard Gillian and all he held dear.
Shortly after dawn on the appointed morning, Ross kissed Gillian good-bye and rode off with a company of twenty armed men. MacKay and an equal number of his kinsmen had already arrived when they reached St. Tears. Murdoc, MacKay’s heir, had been left behind to guard Braeburn, but both Nab and Ramsey rode with their father. The combined forces continued on to Sinclair Keep.
The day was fine; traveling was easy a
nd the sunshine welcome. The distance between St. Tears and Sinclair Keep was not great. The war party expected to reach their destination early in the afternoon and begin the siege immediately thereafter.
Ross called a halt on a rise overlooking Sinclair Keep to study the lay of the land. A strange silence prevailed. On a fine day such as this there should have been some movement in the courtyard, yet Ross saw no one. An air of abandonment hung heavy over the keep. Ross lifted his hand and motioned the war party forward. Tearlach MacKay joined him at the head of the column.
“What do you make of it, MacKenna?”
Ross eyed the keep cautiously, noting the lack of activity. Not one man was visible on the wall walk; not one horse was tethered in the courtyard. But what shocked Ross the most was the gate. It gaped open without a single guard in sight.
“ ’Tis odd that no one is about, and that the gate isna barred against us,” he mused.
Ross called another halt just short of arrow range.
“The keep looks deserted,” MacKay observed. “Think you Sinclair sets a trap for us?”
“He didna know when we were coming, so it doesna make sense. I’ll ride a wee bit closer and see what happens.”
Ross declined MacKay’s offer to ride with him. If some treachery was afoot, he wanted to know what form it took before sending men into danger.
“If I reach the gate without mishap, you and the others can follow.”
Ross spurred his horse. He had nearly reached the wooden curtain wall when a head popped up on the wall walk. But the man didn’t hold a bow. Instead he waved a white flag attached to a pole.
“Where is Sinclair?” Ross called up to the man.
“Gone, Laird Ross. He fled with those of his kinsmen willing to follow him. They left naught behind but women, children, old men, and those of us who didna wish to leave the Highlands. The winter has been hard on us. The cotters are near to starving.”