The Laird's Right

by Mageela Troche

  The Chattan cry split through the night. Damn, Liam wasn’t among them. Alec learned that the bastard had been sent to help the clan and led the attack on Cameron folks. To hell with the cattle, Alec hunted Liam.

  In a flash, the fight began. He swung his sword, striking at men. There would be no running. The clash of metal striking metal drowned out the horses’ cries and blended with the grunts of the men.

  Sweat dripped down Alec’s face. The metallic stench of blood hung thick along with the growing stench of horses lathering from the battle and their fear.

  “Cameron!” He turned toward that voice—Liam. The bastard filled his vision as he charged toward him.

  Alec chopped down the solider and raced to meet the bastard. “I’ll kill you.”

  Liam cut at Alec. He raised his sword. The meeting of the two swords rumbled up Alec’s arm. Putting his weight behind his sword, Alec shoved back, throwing off Liam. Alec knocked his pommel against the horse’s head. Liam fell to the ground and his horse fled.

  Alec leapt atop him. Liam kicked him in the gut. The blow threw him back. He stumbled a few steps but stayed on his feet.

  “The bitch didn’t die.”

  “You will,” he spat out even though his mouth was dry. Their blades crossed, scraping the sharp edges. Sparks flashed then vanished. Liam’s hot sour breath puffed across Alec’s face along with spittle.

  “I can’t wait to kill your wife. I might even sample her before I slip my blade into her gut.”

  Alec saw red. “You’ll die before then.”

  Liam laughed, revealing rotten teeth. The man’s taunts sparked a fire in his belly. Never in his life, had he had a sense of unbeatable power brimming in him. There was no way he would best Alec. His blood boiled. A fervor gave him stamina he had not felt since the day his father betrayed the clan and Connor.

  Alec wasted time by battling him. Liam had skills but Alec had to make quick work. He swept out his leg and cut Liam’s legs from under him. As expected, Liam rolled, knowing a blow would come. Instead, Alec shifted and buried his claymore into the back of his neck, through sinew and bone and into the earth.

  Chapter Ten

  Alec stormed into the chamber. Portia popped up from her prone position. The linen fell to her waist. She climbed to her knees and crawled to the bed’s edge. The string of her nightdress dangled. The neckline hung off her shoulder, revealing the feminine slope of her shoulder. The firelight dappled her skin to a golden hue His gaze dipped down to the full roundness of her bosom. Her hard nipples pressed against the fine fabric. Her feminine aroma hung thick in the bedroom, banishing any lingering mark of his father.

  Her gaze ran over him as if to see for herself that he was whole and hale. She stretched out a shaky hand before she threw her arms around him and nearly choked him. Short tremors racked her. He held tight. This was the place he needed to be. He just had to be willing to hold on.

  “You’re here.” She slammed her lips to his. Their lips smacked and teeth clattered from the force of the kiss.

  Alec snagged her bottom lip between his teeth and suckled the flesh. He slipped his tongue into her moist mouth. She curled her tongue around his. His mouth flooded with the sweet taste of her.

  He caught her around the knees. He forced himself to lay her down on the bed when he didn’t want to be apart from her for a sliver of a moment. He covered her with his body. Tonight, he’d claim her, love her and be the husband he wanted to be for her. He trailed open kisses along her jaw, tasting the saltiness of her skin. Beneath his lip, her soft skin heated from his ragged breaths and stirred him to life. He sucked at the fine flesh of her neck. Her vein pumped against his lips. Her shortening breath puffed in his ear, blending with her growing moans of delight, and fired his blood.

  Rising to his forearms, he stared down at her. “You are so beautiful. I don’t deserve you.” Her face was flushed and her lips shined from his kiss. Gone was the heaviness of sleep, replaced by desire. Unable to stop from feeling her life, he ran his thumb over her lips. No one would steal her life force, leaving her a shell of the woman he had come to care for.

  The truth was Alec yearned for her since seeing her praying at Holyrood Abbey. His baser desires raged but it was more than a physical attraction. He was ready to break every vow he made to himself. Now, she was his. Was it possible Portia wanted him? If not, he had to make her feel the same burn that licked at him.

  “Will you kiss me?” Teasing laced her thickening voice as her fingers traced over his lips.

  “All over.” He nipped at the flesh of her finger. She smiled as she angled for a kiss.

  She planted her bare feet on the bed. The nightgown slipped down her thigh and covered her womanhood from his hungry gaze. Goose pimples dotted her pale skin. Alec placed a peck on the dimpled inside of her knee. Because he couldn’t stop himself, he kissed the other one. He palmed her knee and inched his touch down her thigh, kneading her muscles and feeling his heat seep into her. A good thing otherwise, he’d burst into flames. He halted at a scar just inside her thigh. She froze. He lowered his head.

  She grabbed him by the ears. “Nay, Alec.” She tensed.

  He shook off her hold. “Portia, you are a warrior. You are beautiful even with the scars.” He traced the thin line with the edge of his tongue then placed a kiss at the edge. “These brought you to me.”

  With each scar he caressed, he lavished with a kiss, stroking the flesh.

  Her legs fell open. She clutched his upper arms. Her nails dug into his skin. This dull pain let him know he wasn’t dreaming. He was hard and wouldn’t wake hard. His cock jerked.

  Bunching the fabric about her waist, he halted. “Portia, I’ve…never done this.” His throat strained from the confession.

  Her soft gasp rocked him to his bones. “I will show you.”

  She unpinned his brooch and let it fall along with his plaid. She slipped her hands under his leine and ran her hands upward. Her nails played with the swirl of hair running up his chest. His body strained under her touch. His eyes closed as he lost himself in her exploration. Her touch was so different from his own, secure, explorative and trembling with a need that built his own. He trembled with a building desire. He wasn’t going to survive.

  His eyes drifted closed, losing himself in the dulcet sensation. More blood rushed to his rod. She scraped her hands over his nipples and hardened him more than he imagined. He almost released then and there.

  She whipped his shirt off. Brisk air rushed across his chest. Gathering his diminishing wits, he whipped off her nightgown. He flung it aside. The faint candlelight dappled her rounded abdomen. Scars cut across her flesh, thin and with fine precision. Her navel shadowed. He leaned down and lapped at the indent. Her hands dove into his hair. He held her waist then slid his hands over her ribcage to the underside of her ample bosom. He halted, unsure of his next move.

  Portia grabbed his hand. “Touch me.” She set his hand over her left breast. He squeezed. The full, malleable flesh filled his hand. She pushed against his hold. Her puckered nipple pressed against his palm.

  “What feels right? Tell me.”

  “I’ll tell when it’s not.” She got out on a hitched breath.

  Going on instinct, he closed his hot mouth around the other one. Suckling, he flicked his tongue around the supple flesh. His mouth flooded with her creamy yet salty taste.

  Needing to savor her succulent flesh, he switched to the other one. He circled the apex as she pushed her breast deeper in to his mouth.

  He felt her touch on his shoulders, sparking a frenzy inside him. “Touch me.” He needed her to touch him and not leave a sliver of him unexplored. She weaved her touch along his spine. His muscles contracted from either strain or responding to her, making sure she never stopped.

  She kneaded his arse. More blood than he believed he possessed rushed to the tip of his cock. Her long, elegant fingers danced over his hip to his hard penis. He jerked and froze, for a breath he couldn’t inhale. Her
hand curled around the base, a firm touch jolting him to his balls.

  Up, her hand ran to the head then down. Her thumb brushed over the top of him. Alec didn’t think he could get harder. Losing himself in the firm sensation, his baser instinct demanded to be satiated. Only Portia could give him that.

  “Alec.” The plea in her voice matched her actions as she drew him to her hot core. Not yet in her, her heat blew against his cockhead. She rubbed his head against her nether lips and drenched him in her wetness.

  The tip pressed into her. Her silk walls stretched and cocooned him in her supple, moist, hot sheath. She lifted her hips, pushing upward to take him deeper.

  Before he could moan in pleasure, she gasped with her own. Her walls tightened with the most erotic sound he ever heard and steeled him. He had to hear it again. She guided his hips until he found the beat. Stroking deeper and deeper in her hot, wet center. Her ridged walls stroked him. Every nerve in his body sparked and crested like an incoming wave rushing toward the shore. He refused to break…just yet. This was about their pleasure not his own.

  He almost came when her hips rose up, bringing him deeper. The drum of their bodies and the slap of their skin built the fervor burning through their blood.

  He grabbed her arse and pumped faster strokes. Her walls pulsated, squeezing him. One last grip and her back arched and she gripped him. Portia released a moan that became a silent scream as she convulsed around him. Her walls squeezed him tight, nearly choking him. His body exploded and his seed shot in her. He collapsed with a grunt. Slowly, feeling returned to his body. His even breathing returned. A sheen of sweat dried on their flesh. Her musk filled his nostrils. Never in his life had he been satiated, just wanting to stay here.

  Gathering his will, he rolled off her and collapsed onto his back. He drew her to him. She placed her hand over his stomach and curled her fingers in his short hair.

  To keep face, he once boasted that women were the same in the dark. He could hit himself for that foolish lie. No woman could measure up to Portia. He couldn’t decide if he could give her his love or he made everything worse?

  * * * *

  Portia climbed over Alec and off the bed. Alec didn’t move. Sprawled across the bed, he laid on his stomach. His spine dug a valley through his broad, muscular back and to his pert, round buttocks. Instead of being rigid, each thick muscle was loose yet still displayed his might. Various scars marred his otherwise smooth skin, the back of a warrior.

  She was unsure of what to make of last night. She was a widow, yet behind her heart a knot developed. Last night had been spent begging for Alec to return. When she raised those same fears to Stephen, he had laughed, telling her men fight and women wait. But Portia had waited for the return that never came. Alec had returned. Was loving Alec a betrayal?

  A short rap on the door ended her thoughts. Once answered, men filed in, bearing a tub and water. Their eyes averted, Portia stood aside. News would spread through the clan not surprisingly since secrets rarely stayed hidden in a castle.

  When they departed, Portia shot a glance at Alec then shed her clothing. She sank into the water and let her hair hang loose over the edge. The heated water stung her skin, not that she minded. She shut her eyes and soaked, letting the clouds of steam land on her face

  Humming, she sensed a movement and opened her eyes to see Alec standing over her, a grin on his face and naked. The grin surprised her more.

  “Enjoying your bath?” he asked, teasingly. He spared a glance at her face then dipped to her breast lapped by the bath water.

  “Aye, thank you.” She waved her hands, sending the water swirling.

  “Good.” He lifted a leg into the tub.

  She scooted her legs aside before he sat on them. “Alec, we do not both fit.”

  Water poured over the edge and spread across the wood floors. “Nonsense.”

  Portia laughed. Alec sat at the other side, his knees by his ears. He leaned forward and gave her a quick peck.

  “See, I was correct.”

  “Through sheer will.”

  His knuckles scraped the floor. “Come and let me wash you.”

  “I am capable of the task on my own.” She gave him her best sultry look.

  He leaned forward so the tips of their noses touched. “I want to pamper you, spoil you, love you. You deserve that and I want to be the only man to do that.”

  Her eyes softened, then a thought intruded and wiped away her willingness. Could she love Alec as he deserved…with her whole heart.

  “Your scars? I have caressed every part of your body. I have kissed and caressed them. I wish I could have protected you from that torture. You will not hide from me. The baron will not destroy us. Do my scars revolt you?”

  She traced the raised faded skin of a scar along his shoulder. “Nay, but you are a warrior. You are supposed to have them.”

  “And you don’t think you are one? Portia, you have fought a battle. Each mark reminds me how I could have lost you before I had you. So, never hide from me. Now, let me wash you.”

  She looked to the stool where the cloth and soap rested. “It is there.” She pointed to it.

  “Get it, wife, so I can admire your wet naked body.”

  A wickedness she had never felt before dared her. “Nay, you get it so I can admire your wet, naked body.”

  He cocked a brow and rose. “Wicked lass.”

  Water ran along his chest and tangled in his hair. At the end of his stiffening cock, drops plopped into the remaining water. He stepped from the tub and left a trail of wet footprints from the tub to the stool and back again.

  Portia smiled as she feasted on his flesh. His hard buttocks and long, lean legs defined his sinewy backside. She folded her legs to her chest as he settled back in the tub.

  “Let me wash you.” He rubbed the ball of soap between his hands and built a vigorous lather.

  “I can wash myself.” Her regal countenance failed from the playful smile dancing on her mouth.

  “Nay, you may miss a spot. I cannot allow that.” He ran the cloth over her hand before wiping it between each finger. She might have had a thought of his actions but her tingling overpowered her.

  Slowly, he inched up her arm, kneading the muscles. Alec had never been this playful. She liked this man. This man she could love…Love!

  Again?

  Nay, that sentiment died in her. For Alec, she wished differently.

  She stretched for a sample of his firm mouth. He denied her with a twist of his head. “I must see to my duty.”

  He drew the washcloth over her shoulder and downward between her breasts. The rough weave of the cloth scraped against her skin so she could only feel the difference in textures as the water lapped at her.

  The cloth disappeared beneath the waterline, leaving a film of soap floating. He ran the cloth over her center once, twice until he rubbed the nub. She clutched the tub’s rim.

  “For someone who never lain with a woman, you are very skilled.” She was breathless. She was sure the water had cooled not that she noticed.

  “I have a vivid imagination and I plan to do all of it to you.”

  Her hips jerked. Her whole existence centered on that scant part of her body. Her gut clenched and tightened. She was sure she would snap like a fraying rope. Instead, the pressure built until she begged for release, though she never wished it to end.

  From the center of her, she felt her body snap and a sweet oblivion over take her. She slid deeper into the tub and stayed there as her muscles came back to life and regained their power.

  She pulled herself up and wondered if she wore the same loopy grin Alec did since both were very pleased.

  “I love a good bath.”

  “Husband, there is no more water to bathe with.”

  * * * *

  Alec found Portia coming up from the stores. Her eyes almost jumped from her face and she glanced behind her then looked back at him.

  Recovering from the surprise, she said, �
�Husband, are you in need of me?”

  “Aye, that I am.” He took her hand and started from the great hall.

  In the center of the bailey, Alec’s horse stood waiting. “You are departing?”

  “Aye, along with you.” He mounted and held out his hand. She took it and placed her foot upon his and let him swing her into the saddle.

  He wrapped an arm around her waist. She leaned against his chest. Here the world seemed a better place and her worries forgotten.

  “Where do we venture to now?” They rode by the clattan and beyond the fields and cattle milling about. They went beyond the clansmen cutting peat from the ground.

  “I shall not tell.” He softened his brisk tone with a kiss on the top of her head.

  “So, you have kidnapped me again.”

  “And you like it.”

  “That I do.” She leaned back against Alec and decided to enjoy this little escape. Stephen had never done this for her but she closed her mind to her memories because he couldn’t invade their time.

  As swiftly as he had stolen her away, he pulled up his mount. She saw woodland. Cameron Castle dominated the landscape even as it appeared small against the mountains.

  “Patience,” he teased as he took her hand.

  She kept her eyes on him, not able to stop grinning. A lightness fell over her. Her steps even held a little skip. She wasn’t the only one. Alec grinned and swaggered with a cockiness she relished.

  A grass trail cut through woodland brimming with birch, sycamore, oak and beech trees. Sunlight broke through the leaves under its canopy, she felt cocooned from the world. In the distance, water trickled. She felt as if only they existed.

  “This is Banquo’s Walk.”

  “An ancestor?” Alec shook his head so she asked, “Who is this man?”