MacLarens of Balmorie 05 - Once Upon A Time In Scotland

by Kam McKellar

  “Fine. Mr. Arctic Warfare. I can do it myself.”

  With trembling hands, she rolled off her wet yoga pants. When she rose, Liam was there in front of her pulling a large T-shirt over her head before taking her hand and leading her upstairs.

  She went a few steps before stopping, pulling against his grip.

  This was going all wrong.

  She might be cold and tired as hell, but she'd come here for a purpose and she wasn't moving another step until she said the things she needed to say. “No. Will you just wait a minute.”

  Liam released her immediately and turned around, regarding her with a quiet intensity that set her on edge.

  She was very aware she was standing in his home, uninvited in nothing but a wet bra and undies and his huge shirt. Not exactly how she'd pictured this going... With a deep sigh, she went to speak, but then remembered part of her plan at least. “Hold on a sec.”

  She spun on her heel and went to the pile of wet clothes by the door, bending over to look for the raincoat.

  “Jesus,” she heard Liam mutter behind her in a gruff tone, but whatever. He could be irritated all he wanted.

  In the raincoat pocket, her hand closed around the hand-fasting ribbon. She clutched it in her fist and turned around, pulling the shirt over her bottom as it had risen a bit during her search.

  “Okay,” she said, a little breathless, tossing her hair from her face. “Here.” She held out the ribbon and his face went blank. “Hold out your hand.”

  A slight frown pulled his brows together. Wary, he lifted his hand and she grabbed it, turning it over so that his palm was facing up. Then, she placed the ribbon there. She wasn't sure about the proper way to wrap it. “I don't know how to do it.”

  Her heart was pounding and her trembling had stopped. His hand was big and warm, and he was looking somewhere between shocked and touched. “Abbie,” he started.

  “Look, I know what I'm doing,” she said hastily before he could repeat what he'd said earlier. It would really suck if he actually meant what he'd said earlier. Shit, what if he had meant it? And now her eyes were starting to sting. “I know what I'm doing.”

  He held her stare for a long moment.

  Finally, he moved, taking a step closer and lifting the ribbon. “I'm not sure how to do it either,” he said, wrapping one end of the ribbon around their hand. “Something like this, I suppose.” He took the other and did the same until their hands were wrapped together.

  They stared at each other, then Abbie realized she had no idea what came next. That was all she needed for a nervous laugh to bubble in her throat. Neither one of them, it seemed, had any idea what to do next. Liam's slow grin took her breath away. “You make me nervous, Abbie Murphy.”

  Right. “I make you nervous.”

  “Aye. Frightfully so,” he said with a smile. “And when you bent over there to root around in that raincoat I almost keeled over...”

  A wide grin split her face. He was the whole package. Funny, wicked, intense... And she was more nervous than she'd been on her wedding day. “So what now?”

  He cleared his throat. “Now we promise to see where things lead. Six weeks. Open minds,” he smiled. “Open hearts.”

  Okay. She could do that. Promising herself to him sounded wicked and wanton and thrilling. In fact, just the idea took her humor away and replaced it with a zing of heat.

  “You sure about this?” Liam asked her, his eyes glittering with emotion.

  Her first thought was no. But, then, she was leaping ahead to the future again, to the end of their arrangement where nothing was certain. “Yes, I'm sure.” Because this was the here and now, and she wasn't going to live in fear of the future. She was taking a damn chance for once.

  Liam's lips twitched and he reached out and rubbed at the deep worry line on her forehead. “Thinking hard there, aren't you lass.”

  “Trying not to,” she admitted.

  “Hmm,” he hummed, trailing his fingers down the side of her face to push back the wet strands sticking to her skin. Her breath held as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. The sensation of his breath on her skin made her shiver. “I think it's time to warm you up,” his voice came out low and sexy, his mouth brushing the curve of her ear.

  His innuendo flowed through her like lava, hot and thick, making her heart pound and her insides quiver with anticipation. She leaned into him, her eyes closing just as he pulled away. “Hot shower,” he practically growled and tugged her along.

  CHAPTER 17

  The last thing Liam had expected when he fell into the bed was waking to find Abbie on his doorstep. Christ, if this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up. She was here, her hand still tied to his as he led her into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

  As steam filled the room, he faced her. Earlier, fear had overtaken him. A dozen things could have befallen her as she trudged through the storm. Thankfully, she'd made it safely and was not, in fact, hypothermic. She was beautiful, the mud streak across her cheek tugging on his heart.

  She'd come all this way. For him.

  The fact struck him hard and humbled him.

  Her eyes were so dark and full of emotion that he felt a little lost in them, the deep chocolate color reminding him of things sinful and wild.

  “Feeling a little cold and needy here, Highlander,” she told him at length, the aura around her tense and anxious and, aye, needy, the quirk on her sweet lips showing him that Abbie Murphy had a wicked side. The same wicked side that had sent her sinking to her knees in front him in the middle of the woods.

  With a growl, he slid his hand around the back of her neck as he lowered his head. The moment his lips touched hers, she sighed, and he was lost. Her hot little tongue flicked out and ran a naughty trail along his bottom lip, kissing, testing, urging him to do something. For the moment, he was content with breathing her in, sharing breath, letting her get all worked up.

  And needy.

  Abbie's grip on his hand was tight. He moved their bound hands behind her back to press her against him. Her nipples were hard through the cotton shirt he'd given her. Her free hand slid around his waist, the palm cold and sending a shiver dancing along his skin.

  And once she was near jumping with anticipation, he kissed her like he wanted to, deep and possessive and completely.

  When he lifted his head, he was sure he saw stars. Abbie trembled in his arms and it wasn't from the cold. He removed the ribbon from their hands, then slowly rid her of his shirt. He gazed at her breasts in the wet see-through bra and took a shaky breath. “Go ahead,” she said, “take it off.”

  He didn't need to be asked twice. Liam had her bra unclipped in a flash, the thing landing in the corner with his shirt. He didn't touch her. For a second he wasn't sure he could move.

  “This, too.” Her hips wiggled and he thought he might die right then and there.

  Calling upon every bit of strength he had, he dropped to his knees and pulled her panties down until she stepped from them and they, too, sailed through the air to join the clothes in the corner. Liam straightened, trying like hell to stop himself from falling on her like some raging beast.

  Abbie slid her arm around his waist. He drew her to him, then backed her slowly into the shower until the spray was flattening her long black hair and running over the most beautiful skin he'd ever seen. He grabbed the bar of soap and began washing the mud from his woman's lush body.

  Liam had never been a religious man, but Abbie was worth worship.

  In awe, he watched his soapy hands glide over her slick skin. He made sure to cover every inch, every part of her, noting her small sighs, what she liked, what places made her squirm. He intentionally bypassed certain parts, wanting to make her crazy, wanting to make her want more than she ever had before.

  “Liam,” she said in a low voice.

  “Aye, Abbie?” he replied as his palms slid around her waist.

  She swallowed and gazed up at him, eyes dark with desire. “You're still wea
ring your pants.”

  He blinked and sure enough, she was right. His smile grew until he was grinning like a damn fool. He kissed her wet lips and laughed.

  She tugged at the waistband. “I'd like them off now, please.”

  His chest swelled. He bent forward and kissed her neck. Her head fell back as he licked her skin and sucked. Then, he was ridding himself of his wet pants.

  * * *

  She was going to break apart, scream... Beg. Every glide of his big, rough hands over her skin made her crazy. He touched her everywhere, but never where she wanted, even though she strained and urged him on with moans she couldn't seem to control.

  And when he kissed her long and deep, she thought her heart would pound out of her chest. His entire demeanor was one of confidence and patience and contained hunger, a steady slow burn that was killing her.

  “Please.” She broke from his kiss, every nerve on fire, every sensitive place screaming to be touched. “Please touch me,” Her voice sounded a little crazed and a whole lot breathy. He was touching her. All over, in fact, just not where her ache was greatest.

  He nuzzled her neck as he let his hand skim flat over her collar bone and over her breast. When his palm glided over her nipple, she jerked. Oh, God, she wasn't even going to make it to the main event.

  “Beautiful, Abbie,” he whispered against her neck, then swirled his tongue on her skin before nipping gently. “So sensitive.”

  But she barely heard because his hand was still heading south, below her bellybutton, and, finally— Yes. His wet hand slid between her legs and brushed over her lightly before slipping between her folds and rubbing her slick flesh. An appreciative curse broke from his lips as her eyes closed, head falling back as she drifted on one delicious wave after another.

  Reaching the edge, her body tensed, feeling heavy and hot. And then his hand was gone. Before her mind could process what was happening, he wrapped his strong hands around her and lifted. Instinct took over and she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

  And then he was sliding in thick and sure, to the hilt and pushing her right over the edge.

  * * *

  Abbie woke feeling the sun on her face and surrounded by the warmth that Liam's big body had generated even though he was no longer in the bed. She heard the sink shut off and then he was walking back into the room, naked, looking like some sleepy, rumpled god.

  His lips twisted into an easy, thoroughly satisfied grin. His eyes were content.

  Her smile grew from the inside until she couldn't contain it.

  As he went to join her in the bed, his cell phone rang. He picked it up and glanced at the screen. “Hamish,” he muttered, not answering. As soon as he put the phone on the bedside table, it rang again. “Malcolm.” He hit the do not answer button and slipped into bed. The phone rang again as Abbie reached for him. With a eye roll and a sigh, he grabbed the phone. “Devin.” This time, he turned the thing off and tossed it into the chair in the corner of the room. “There. Buggers can do without me for one bloody day.”

  Then, he turned to her, propping his head in his hand and raking a hot gaze down her body. She bit back a smile. Oh, the things they had done in the dark of night. Just thinking about it made her hot and bothered, and she had so much time to make up for...

  “So you're taking the day off, huh?” She wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

  “Aye.” Reaching around her, Liam grabbed the hand-fasting ribbon that had made its way onto the table. “Have important plans,” he said casually, tying one wrist.

  Abbie heart skipped. “What would these plans entail, exactly?”

  He joined her other wrist, tying them together. His weight settled on her as he raised her arms over her head and secured the ribbon to one of the vertical slats in the headboard. She squirmed beneath him.

  “Dinna worry, lass.” He slid down to look her in the eye. “You're about to find out.” He nuzzled her neck and breathed in deeply. Abbie's eyes closed and she gave herself over to Liam's very erotic, very thorough plans.

  CHAPTER 18

  The next six weeks were a whirlwind. Abbie had settled into a lovely rhythm of writing and exploring during the day, spending time with Riley and Harper—who, as it turned out, had reconnected with Liam's brother Ross—and engaged in wild, mind-blowing nights with Liam.

  They shared more than just their bodies. They shared their pasts, their most intimate dreams, their hopes for the future, their worries and fears. She'd been right about him. He was a deep, complicated man. On the surface one would never guess his depth; his wicked smiles and easy charm could fool anyone. But he'd been through so much between the loss of his parents and the horrors of war. He'd come out the other side strong and still wildly optimistic.

  They didn't speak of the end.

  But as her time in Scotland drew to a close, it was all Abbie thought about. She'd had so many wonderful conversations with her mother about life, the future, and about Liam. She'd even confided in Harper and Riley because it had been pointless to hide what was going on in her heart.

  She didn't want to leave him. And, yet, she was dying to get back to her son.

  Her heart had been completely compromised. Without a doubt, Abbie knew she could live the remainder of her life with Liam and be happy and content. He was the one, and he was so into her that she felt beautiful and wanted and adored. A girl could get used to that.

  Last night, she and Liam had eaten dinner with Harper and Ross, and Riley and Jamie. It was a wonderful time. At the end of it, she'd said her goodbyes to everyone, promising to visit soon. All the while, she was keenly aware of Liam watching the display and saying nothing.

  On the ride back to her cottage, they hadn't said a word, the mood quiet and somber as they entered the cottage. Liam had taken her hand, led her upstairs, and made love to her slowly, as though every touch, every breath, every kiss was a memory he wanted to brand in his mind and heart.

  And even as she was lost in his big body and taken by exquisite pleasure, her heart had broken and tears had stung her eyes.

  The next morning, the day of her departure, he'd kissed her and gone back to his place to shower and change, and get some promised work done at the distillery before meeting her back at the cottage.

  The only time he'd ever acknowledged her leaving was when he paused at the door and told her he'd be back in time to drive her to the airport.

  Abbie wasn't sure what to do.

  Her departure had become the massive elephant in their short-term relationship room. As she folded her clothes and fit them into her suitcase, she wondered if avoiding the subject had been the right course of action because now when they needed to face it, it felt like neither one of them knew how to approach the subject.

  How the hell was she going to say goodbye?

  Sniffing back the tears, she finished packing and then double checked the bathroom before taking her large suitcase to the ground floor where she proceeded to recheck the downstairs for anything left behind. She had her carry-on ready, her manuscript files were backed up and secure, and once she returned home, she'd email the files to her editor.

  By noon, the sound of tires crunching over gravel made her chest tighten into a painful knot. A car door shut. She could hear him coming to the door. She stood from her seat on the couch as he stepped inside, ducking through the door and meeting her gaze. Her heart gave an aching lurch.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Deep breath in. Long one out. She nodded while inside confusion ran wild. Didn't he want her to stay? Had the last six weeks been nothing but sex for him? No, she didn't believe that. She knew he cared for her; she'd felt it in almost everything he did, every look he gave her, every conversation they had, every touch...

  “Yep. All set,” she heard herself say.

  Liam hefted her suitcase as Abbie followed him outside with her carry on.

  In a blur, they were speeding down the road, passing the castle, the loch, and the vi
llage. She bit her lip until she tasted the iron tang of blood. She had to speak up, had to say something. “How was your work? Did you finish what you needed to?”

  “Aye. The new worm tubs for the distillery are installed, and we went over some of Ross' designs for the new labels.”

  “Everything is coming together,” she said with a smile. Liam was getting his wish. He and Ross, along with Harper, were bringing back the old distillery. He'd been eager and excited and determined to make it a success, and she knew without a doubt he would. She didn't know how he managed everything, honestly, because he was still helping his uncle with restorations and Devin and Jamie on the estate.