Highlanders for the Holidays: 4 Hot Scots

by Glynnis Campbell

  * * *

  The tension between them was so strong it prickled Lily’s skin. When she finally forced herself to look up, the fierce desire in Roderick’s eyes stole her breath away. His dark blue gaze held her fast with a question. Will you?

  This sinfully handsome Highlander did not need a woman to cook and clean or do the other things men expected. There was only one thing he wanted from a woman. And to Lily’s everlasting surprise, he appeared to want it from her tonight.

  She had avoided entanglements with men like the plague she knew them to be. She loved her shop and her freedom. Living a celibate life had been no great sacrifice. In truth, she had not met a single man who tempted her.

  Until now. And by the heavens, she was sorely tempted.

  Tomorrow they would be on their way, and soon after they reached Islay, she would never see Roderick again. If she was ever going to go to have a night of sinful pleasure with a man, she would never have a more suitable opportunity.

  Nor a man she would rather do it with.

  Roderick reached out and cupped her face with his hand. His touch was gentle, yet the effect on her was so powerful that she felt it to her toes. She already felt over her head and drowning. Perhaps she should wait and do this with some quiet, unassuming merchant who did not make her heart race and her limbs feel weak.

  “Tell me more about your grandmother, the healer,” she said to buy time to calm herself.

  “I can’t do that now.” He took the bowl of salve Lily still had gripped in her hands without realizing it and set it by the fire.

  “Why not?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Because I may not survive,” Roderick said, resting his hand on the small of her back, “if I wait any longer to kiss ye.”

  As he leaned toward her, her pulse skittered, and she could not get enough air. She recognized these as signs of a woman losing her wits over a man. She had often prepared soothing drinks for women who came to her breathless and agitated.

  “Tell me ye want to kiss me,” he said in a husky voice that vibrated inside her.

  “I do,” she said, desire overwhelming her good sense.

  Mercy! The moment their lips touched, she was glad she was sitting, for her limbs went weak as she melted into his first soft, warm kiss.

  Of course, she had been kissed before—by the stonemason’s apprentice who nearly broke her tooth, the butcher’s son who slobbered, and the occasional customer who managed to grab her before she kneed his groin. But none of those kisses bore any resemblance to this.

  When Roderick ran his tongue along her bottom lip, she opened her mouth with a sigh. His tongue was slow and sensuous as he explored her mouth, but before long their kisses grew so heated that she had to pull away to catch her breath.

  When she did, he covered her face in kisses—her cheeks, her brow, her eyelids, her hair. Heavens, it felt wondrous. He rested his hand on her ribs, where it touched the underside of her breast—oh my—while his lips traced a burning trail down the side of her throat. She did not remember lying down, but she was on her back.

  While his kisses were gentle, coaxing, his shaft was hard against her belly. This Highlander was danger and mystery beneath a beguiling surface.

  “I want ye so badly, lass,” he said, his breath hot on her skin. “Say ye want me too.”

  When she did not answer, he leaned back and fixed his gaze on her face. She had to turn her head to the side to give herself a chance to think.

  Since they soon would be parted forever, she need not worry about suffering through the deceit and lies, the other women, the endless demands, and all the other abuses men heaped upon women. She could enjoy one magical night that she could remember for the rest of her life, with none of the bad memories that usually followed.

  And even more than that, she did not want her only time with a man to be that once when she had not been quick enough to get away from a man in her shop. He’d left with a long gash from her knife down his face that she hoped festered and killed him. When the old herbalist found her afterward, she gave Lily a tincture to prevent the rapist’s seed from taking hold in her womb.

  Lily had the herbs in her bag she would need to make that same tincture in the morning.

  “We don’t have to do this,” Roderick said, but he kept his hands on her. “I’ll leave ye alone if that’s what ye want.”

  “I don’t want you to leave me alone,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I want this.”

  “Good.”

  She thought he would free the essential parts from their clothing, and be about the business of it quickly, as she’d often seen couples do against the wall in the backstreets of the city at night—and sometimes in the day. Instead, he got up on his knees.

  He was so beautiful that she found herself staring at him, as she had when he first took off his shirt and tunic. Of course, she had known from riding with him for two days and watching him fight that he had a muscular frame, but that was not the same as seeing the hard, rippling muscles of his bared torso in the glow of the firelight.

  “Aren’t you cold?” she asked.

  “Cold?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Nay.”

  With that hunger in his eyes, she thought he would surely fall upon her now like the men who trapped her in corners and pawed at her until she jabbed her knee into their groin or pulled her knife. But he surprised her again by crouching at her feet.

  She rose up on her elbows and watched him remove her boots. After the boots, he pulled off one of her wool stockings, and then he grinned at her as he cradled her bare foot in his hand.

  “I knew I’d find a lass under here.” He kissed the bottom of her foot with soft lips, and the scratch of his unshaven beard tickled and sent a thrill of tingles up her leg.

  “I’m going to freeze without them,” she said, when he pulled off her other stocking.

  “I’ll keep ye warm,” he said, a wicked promise in his eyes.

  She sucked in her breath as he slid his hand up her calf inside the lad’s breeches she wore.

  “I’ve been longing to touch your skin,” he said. “And I’ve been imagining what ye feel like under the lad’s clothes since I first found ye and your cap fell off.”

  “That long?” she asked, her voice coming out high.

  “And every moment since.” His gaze sizzled with heat as he lifted her hand and pressed a warm kiss to her palm.

  After he lay down beside her and spread the blanket over them, his big hand came to rest on her hip. He was so gentle as he kissed her cheek and hair and said her name that she relaxed and enjoyed both the kisses and the sensation of his hard body against her side.

  Still, a wave of uneasiness swept over her when Roderick pulled her tunic up, revealing a few inches of bare skin. Would he be disappointed? No doubt he had bedded many women who were beautiful—and who knew what they were doing and how to please him.

  She was too distracted to hold on to that worry for long. He captured all her attention as he leaned over, kissed her bared belly, and ran his hands up her sides beneath the tunic. When he brushed the sides of her breasts, she sucked in her breath. A moment later, she forgot to breathe altogether as he slowly kissed his way up to her chest, easing the tunic up as he went.

  “By the saints, lass, ye feel good,” he murmured against her skin when he finally covered her breasts with his big, warm hands.

  She nearly rose off the ground when he began to fondle her nipples, rolling them between his thumbs and fingers. Good heavens, she had no notion that would be so…arousing. Sensations thrummed through her and pooled in her belly and between her legs.

  When he replaced his hand on one of her breasts with his mouth, she ceased to think at all. His tongue circled and flicked, teasing her nipple. Then he sucked it into his mouth, drawing tendrils of pleasure that were almost painful all the way from her toes. He moved to her other breast, and she thought she might go mad.

  When he stopped and lay beside her again, she nearly groaned aloud in
disappointment.

  The firelight glinted in his hair and played over his handsome features as he watched her with his head propped on one elbow. “I want to take this slowly.”

  He slipped his hand under her tunic and ran a finger along the top of her breeches. How did such a light touch across her stomach, of all places, feel so delightfully wicked?

  Their eyes locked as he slid the flat of his hand across her belly, then dipped his fingers beneath the top of her breeches. He paused, his heated gaze never leaving her face, as if waiting for her to object. Her breathing grew shallow as his hand began to inch downward. Her nipples were so sensitive she was aware of the rough cloth rubbing against them with every slight movement.

  Her body jerked when he slid his fingers between her legs. She clenched her fist in the blanket. Good God, her Highlander had magic in his fingers. As he worked that magic, he kissed her throat and face and—heaven help her—her breasts. She made a weak attempt to stop making incoherent murmurs and moans like a madwoman.

  “Ach, I love the sounds ye make,” he said.

  Her head was already spinning when she pulled him into a deep kiss. She ran her hands over his chest, into his hair, down his arms, and over his backside. She felt drunk on passion and could not touch him enough. Closer, she wanted him closer still.

  He moved down her body until he pressed his lips to the bare skin just above her breeches. Oh, Lord, he was easing them down. Another inch, and he ran his tongue low across her belly between her hips. She felt breathless and on edge as he slowly drew the breeches down all the way to her knees.

  He sat up and tugged them the rest of the way off her legs, then he covered her with his body. Their kisses, hungry and deep, went on forever. And all the while, his hands moved over her, exploring, prodding, caressing, as if he needed to touch every inch of her. When he cupped her breast and squeezed her nipple, she groaned into his mouth and arched her back.

  “Tell me my torture is over,” he gasped between kisses. “I must have ye. I must.”

  Tension thrummed through her body, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders to pull him closer. And still, she could not get as close as she wanted. His cock was pressing against the place that throbbed between her legs. While it felt so good, it made the fever raging inside her worse.

  “I need to be inside ye,” Roderick said, his voice strained. “Now. Please. Now.”

  Her mind was so addled with passion that she was slow to realize what was about to happen. Before she could prepare herself, she felt him start to penetrate her. He was too big. Panic seized her.

  “You’re so tight,” he said, his voice desperate in her ear.

  Tight? Was that good or bad? Before she could guess which, he thrust deep inside her. Her breath came out in a whoosh, and she stiffened, startled by a rush of sensation.

  She was mortified when she had to bite her lip against a sudden threat of tears. Having him inside her, being joined with him like this, set loose an unexpected wellspring of emotions.

  “Lily.” Roderick went utterly still above her. Tension radiated from his body. “What is wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said.

  Roderick smoothed her hair from her face and gently kissed her forehead, which only made it worse. Feeling too exposed and vulnerable to look at him, she turned her face to the side.

  He gently turned it back toward him again. His eyes were full of concern as they searched her face.

  “Ach, did I hurt ye?” he said, and wiped a traitorous tear that slipped down her cheek.

  “Truly, I’m fine,” she said. “You needn’t stop.”

  “I can’t do this when ’tis plain ye regret it,” he said, and started to ease out of her.

  Was she to come this far for naught?

  “I don’t regret it,” she said, grabbing his shoulders. “I said I want to do this, and I do.”

  “Are ye certain?” he asked, still looking uneasy.

  “I couldn’t bear it if you left me like this,” she said. “I want to know how it ends.”

  “How it ends?” he asked, drawing his brows together.

  “How it ought to be,” she said, feeling impatient with him now. Why could he not just get on with it instead of making her explain? “I’ve only done it once, and…”

  She did not want to talk about that other time, not now. Not ever.

  “I take it that experience wasn’t all a lass might hope for…” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Like a tale with a disappointing ending?”

  “’Twas worse than disappointing.”

  His worried expression melted, and he laughed. For a frantic moment, she feared she had ruined everything. But then he held her face between his hands and gazed down at her with warmth in his eyes.

  “I’ll do my best to give this tale of ours a satisfying ending, m' eudail,” he said as he closed the short distance between their lips.

  His kiss began warm and slow, and all the while she was keenly aware of every inch of his shaft inside her. When she instinctively lifted her hips, he groaned, and his shaft pulsed inside her.

  Very slowly, he began moving inside her. His mouth was hot on hers, his tongue mimicking his slow, deep thrusts. She gave a soft moan of complaint when he pulled out nearly all the way, then gasped at the rush of pleasure when he thrust inside her again.

  “Mo leannain, did I hurt ye again?” he asked.

  She felt too much to speak, so she answered him by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into another deep kiss.

  His hand slid up her side and cupped her breast. When he rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger, bright sparks of pleasure shot through her. He was moving inside her, setting off sensations that were so intense she could hardly bear it.

  Murmuring words in Gaelic to her, he kissed the side of her face, her hair, her throat. Then his tongue was in her ear, and she never would have guessed that would feel so enticing.

  All the while, he continued moving inside her, sliding in and out at an excruciatingly slow pace. Tension built inside her until she thought she might burst. Her skin felt too tight.

  “Lock your legs around me,” he said in a strained voice.

  When she did, he groaned as he slid deeper inside her.

  “Mo rùin, I cannot go slowly much longer.”

  He was trying to go slow? She dug her nails into his arms.

  “Please. I want… I want…” She could not form words for what she wanted.

  But then he began moving faster, and all thought fled as her entire being was caught up in the movement of their bodies and the overwhelming sensations flooding through her. As his body rocked against hers, she held on to him with all her strength and met his thrusts, urging him harder, faster.

  “Lily,” he said, holding her face between his hands.

  Their eyes locked as he thrust deep inside her. Her body clutched around his, and she cried out his name as waves of pleasure rolled through her.

  Before she could catch her breath, he called her name again as he surged inside her, and she went over the edge with him.

  * * *

  Roderick lay awake watching the dark night clouds blowing across a blacker sky and wondering what in the hell had happened to him when they made love. He felt stunned, as if he had been struck in the head or something. He thought that surely the feeling would ease if they made love a second time. Yet he had felt just as stunned the second time. And the third.

  She had only let a man take her to bed once before. Why did she choose him? Was it merely to satisfy her curiosity? Because she believed he would do a better job of it than the weak, fat-bellied merchants she knew in London?

  He was still awake when the sky turned from black to gray, signaling the coming dawn. An opaque mist lay over the shore, obliterating their surroundings and making it seem as if there was no one but him and Lily in the world. He looked at her face as she slept in his arms, and his heart tripped a beat.

  The utterly foolish idea of asking her to
wed him flitted across his mind.

  With his finger, he brushed a wild strand of flaming red hair from her cheek. She looked deceptively fragile, but she had such a strong spirit. He felt an overwhelming desire to protect her. Just because he succeeded in satisfying her in bed did not mean she wanted anything more from him.

  How could he have let this wee elf of a lass, an English lass at that, grab hold of his heart?

  Ach, last night was a mistake for so many reasons.

  Before last night, he could have been content with a local lass from Skye who would count herself lucky to live near her kin and be satisfied with a strong husband who could protect her. Hoping for something more from a wife was a mistake. His first marriage should have taught him that.

  As he watched Lily’s eyelids flutter and her chest rise and fall with her shallow breathing in that dreamlike state between sleep and full wakefulness, he imagined watching her wake each morning. Before last night, he had not thought beyond delivering her to his clan. Now he was imagining a future he knew he could not have. And one she surely did not want.

  His wife had found the isolation of the Isle of Skye unbearable, after growing up in the town of Inverness. How much harder would it be for a lass from the great city of London? And he would have to leave her alone for long periods of time. For a Highland warrior, there would always be battles to fight.

  And he could not bear to make Lily unhappy.

  Chapter 7

  Lily opened her eyes to find Roderick staring at her intently. The memory of all that they had done during the night came back to her in a rush, making her cheeks go hot. She had never had such a magical experience or felt so close to another person.

  “Good morning to ye,” he said, and kissed her forehead.

  Had he felt as much as she had? She was desperate to know and wondered what he would say to her. As the silence stretched between them, she felt as if a fist held her by the throat, making it impossible to swallow. She needed him to say something—that she was special, that he wished they could have more time together, at least that he enjoyed the night—anything but this silence.