To Steal a Highlander's Heart

by Samantha Holt

  And then that hand was upon one of her breasts, comforting and teasing at the same time. He cupped her through the linen, rolled her nipple tight. He groaned against the crook of her shoulder and teeth nipped lightly at her skin.

  "Ye taste so good," he murmured. "So good."

  Alana arched to his touch and angled her hips into him. Hardness greeted her, his plaid gone, as an ache took hold, one that could only be ended by Morgann. The scent of damp skin teased as his wet hair brushed her cheek. He pulled away suddenly, hand still clasped over her breast, fingers remaining under her hair.

  "I cannae do it." His eyes were hooded, dark with lust, voice thick and emotion filled.

  Alana's heart dropped. She leaned her head back, let the air release from her chest and dropped her hands to her side.

  "I cannae do it, Alana. I cannae stay away from ye. I wanted to protect ye, to be strong for ye... I dinnae think I can be strong anymore."

  Relief streamed through her. He wasn't turning her down. She placed her palm over his heart, the thud strong, reassuring. "Dinnae be strong, Morgann. Just be ye. And kiss me."

  He gave a groan of resignation and the hand on her breast advanced around behind her, bundled her against him. Lips moved roughly over hers, claiming, seeking. He coaxed her mouth apart and the damp heat of his tongue shocked her, forced her to grip his arms tightly. Sinuously twining with her tongue, he explored every recess of her mouth as fire built between them. The throb between her thighs became more acute, almost painful. She rocked her hips into him to get some kind of relief.

  Morgann pulled her away from the wall and his hands roamed her body. The linen chemise offered little protection against his probing hands as he grasped her bottom, fingers trailing briefly between her thighs and back up. Alana kept her eyes closed as he manoeuvred her around the room, mouth firmly upon hers, until finally the edge of the table bit into the back of her thighs.

  Hands gliding over the planes of his chest, she opened her eyes and reclined. She'd intended to study him, to relish the sight of firm muscles and crisp hair but to see him, so gut-wrenchingly beautiful, a vulnerable glint in his eyes, forced a surge of impatient need through her.

  "Kiss me again," she begged, hooking a hand around his neck and tugging him down.

  He did as she bid. His mouth moved sensuously over hers yet there was an aggression behind the kiss. A sense of him taking everything from her. But he gave back so much. His fingers pressed into her hip, massaging her flesh. She fidgeted, longing for those fingers to put an end to her agony.

  "Morgann..." she keened, unsure of what she begged for now. Only he could know.

  He ripped his mouth from hers, pushing both hands across her cheeks and holding her face. Their breaths echoed through the vast room. "I need ye, mo ghràidh. I need ye more than my next breath."

  "Aye." She nodded frantically, hooking her legs around his thighs in an attempt to close the distance again. "Aye," was all she could say again.

  "I'll no' take ye here."

  Firm hands pressed under her bottom and Morgann lifted her easily into his hold. He coaxed her legs around him, his sex pressed firmly against her tender flesh. So much restrained power made her shudder and she hid her face in his neck as he carried her effortlessly into the rear chamber.

  Blankets enveloped her as he laid her down with a tenderness that stretched her heart. Candlelight gilded his skin, sharpening the shadows in his features, and highlighting each indent of muscle. She reached out and traced a finger over his stomach, drawing a hiss from him.

  “Did ye light the candles?” she whispered, grateful to be able to see him properly but wondering how he had time to light them as he carried her in.

  His brow creased. “Nay, I thought ye did.”

  “Nay,” she replied softly, her confusion dissipating as he stroked a finger down her cheek, all thoughts forgotten at his tender touch. She continued to explore his body with her hand as he propped himself over her, weight held on one arm.

  Morgann snatched her hand and laid it carefully back on the bed. “Dinnae touch me, lass.” He grinned at her disappointed expression. “Just for a little while. I need to see ye, need to touch ye. Slowly, gently. I dinnae think I can if ye touch me. ‘Twill be over too soon.”

  She licked her lips, swallowing at the promise in his gaze as his hand reached down to the hem of her chemise, currently tangled around her thighs. He glanced down as he inched the fabric higher. Her breaths grew erratic as anticipation built. Morgann shifted to press it up to her waist, hunger clear in his eyes.

  And then he swept the chemise clean over her head and parts of his body moulded to hers. Not enough of him touched her really and she longed to draw him down and feel his full weight but she somehow managed to keep her hands to herself, curling them into the sheets.

  Morgann’s gaze roved over her. Every part of her scalded. Her stomach knotted and her skin grew sensitised. She pressed her thighs together. A hand reached down to draw up her ankle, making her bend her leg. Rough fingers explored the arch of her foot, then the back of her knee and the responsive skin on her inner thigh. She quivered and quaked with each touch, small sounds that she had no control over escaping her.

  “Alana.” His voice cracked at the end of her name. “Sweet Lord, I had no idea… yer too good for me. A more beautiful lassie I’ve never seen.”

  Alana beamed at his words, tears of delight tingling in her eyes. She meant to respond but his fingers continued their journey over her body and she forgot how to speak. Squeezing briefly at her hips, he teased a finger over her stomach, dipped into her belly button before he skimmed her ribs and settled over one breast.

  Her back left the bed at the exquisite feel of rugged male flesh on her own soft skin. She gazed at him as he teased her nipple. Lowering his head, he took it into his mouth.

  “Oh!”

  By God, if he made her feel like that with just his mouth… Sharp heat around her breast made her head swim as he flicked her nipple with his tongue and sucked leisurely at it. He nipped briefly with his teeth, a sweet contrast to his soothing licks.

  “Mo chridhe,” he murmured as his lips tickled over her skin, tracing her collarbone before seeking her mouth.

  The endearment destroyed any remaining restraint and her hands flew around his shoulders, pinning him. A faint growl emanated from Morgann as he took her mouth. He pressed a hand under her back, moulding her to him as he kissed her with such intensity that her head spun. Gone was his teasing touch and careful restraint. The warrior remained, the one that her body sought with a need so ancient it made her shake.

  She tried to match his kisses as their teeth clashed and they fought to get closer. Her legs fell apart and he pumped his hips against her, mimicking the act she craved most. She scrabbled her nails across his smooth back, feeling each ripple of movement as he winnowed his fingers through her hair. Her skin grew hot and damp as they rocked furiously, frissons of pleasure sparking between her legs. She arched and arched into him, steely flesh pressing across her folds until all breath left her and she let out a cry, one that Morgann muffled with a penetrating kiss. Gratification spiralled out through her limbs and she quaked as the feelings simmered into a warm satisfaction.

  Sweet Mary, who knew? But then she must have done or else she would not have craved his touch so much.

  Morgann kept on kissing her, hot open-mouthed kisses to her chin, jaw, neck and lips as the need for him grew again. Instead of dissipating, the longing increased, powered by the knowledge of what pleasure he could bring. She needed to join with him.

  "Now," she whispered. "Morgann. Now." She pressed her juncture into him.

  "Aye, m'eudail, aye." He wrapped her legs around his hips and grasped her bottom in one hand, the other stoking her cheek as he supported his weight on his elbow. "I'm going to take ye now, Alana. Make ye mine. I'll try to be gentle, but I dinnae... I dinnae know if I can," he told her roughly.

  Alana shook her head gently, eyes locked ont
o his. "Do what ye will with me, Morgann. Make me yers. I'm no' scared."

  She wasn't. Nothing could prevent her from wanting this. If her voice shook and her heart hammered, it was only with desperation. As he had claimed of her, she needed him more than her next breath.

  He inched forward, hot flesh spreading her apart and her eyes widened as he took her. Carefully, slowly, tenderly. And then he was buried to the hilt and Alana gasped at the unknown sensation budding inside her. He waited. And she fidgeted, the need to move overriding any discomfort.

  "God's blood, Alana," he said through gritted teeth, "so tight."

  She wriggled again and watched as any final restraint slipped away. A dark, feral light grew in his eyes as he shifted against her. She felt the hammer of his heart against her chest as he withdrew and plunged deeply, as if testing her. Alana released a moan of appreciation and the sound seemed to trigger something.

  Fingers digging into her bottom, Morgann drove into her with deep, hard strokes. Alana could do nothing but hold on as he made her his. Each thrust had her calling his name, begging for an end yet wanting it to last forever. As the rapture built, Morgann drew back, dark gaze latched onto hers. His image grew hazy but Alana saw the desire—and the love?—in his expression and she dug her nails into his skin as she bucked upwards.

  With a hoarse groan, he plunged several more times, carrying her over the edge. Her body pulsed and quivered and he followed her over, kissing her shakily as he released inside her. She soothed him through it, rubbing her hands over his sleek skin and spreading kisses over his jawline, tasting the saltiness of his skin.

  He flopped down beside her, still joined, a hand coming up to clasp possessively over her breast. Morgann nuzzled into her neck and nipped at her ear. “Ah, mo chridhe, what shall I do with ye?” he asked softly.

  Alana grinned, still massaging lazily at his back. “I could think of a few things.”

  He came up onto his elbow and his boyish expression grew serious. “I didnae hurt ye, did I?”

  “Nay.” She reached up and swept his hair from his face. “‘Twas wonderful.”

  His gave her a tilted smile. “I should have been more careful but ye do something to me, Alana. I cannae control myself around ye.”

  “Ye dinnae need to control yerself around me, Morgann. Ye can let go sometimes, ye know?”

  With a shake of his head, he eased himself away from her and settled her into the crook of his thighs, an arm wrapped around her waist. Strong legs brushed hers as he cocooned her with his body. Alana allowed herself a satisfied smile. She didn’t know what the future held for them but everything had changed now. For the better.

  “How come ye understand me so well, lass?”

  She shrugged. “Yer my best friend. Eight summers cannae change that.”

  “I’m yer lover too now.”

  “Aye, that ye are.”

  He swept aside her hair and brushed a kiss across the back of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. “Will ye let me love ye some more?”

  “Aye.” She let slip a moan as a hand slid between her legs. “Aye, love me some more, Morgann MacRae.”

  Chapter Nine

  Wincing as the floorboards creaked, Morgann stepped carefully across the floor to throw open the shutters. Daylight streamed in. The day proved to be clear but cold, a thick blanket of clouds covering the sky. But the day could not seem more beautiful to Morgann. Ach, he still had the grin of a fool on his face.

  He glanced at Alana and tiptoed to the bed. One sweet breast peeked out of the sheets and he settled beside her. Even as the bed dipped under his weight, she slept on. Male pride filled him. He’d well and truly worn her out, insatiable woman that she was.

  Hooking a finger under the sheet, he slid it down, waiting for her to awaken. When she showed no signs of stirring, he grew bolder and slipped the sheets from her body. He admired her creamy skin, slender thighs, the indent of her waist. Red marks graced her where his stubble had scratched her. He regretted marring her delicate skin but a part of him liked the thought of marking her as his. He ached to touch but feared waking her. She looked so perfect, so peaceful, he couldn’t bring himself to disturb that. Was there any better look than that of a satisfied woman?

  Ach, but he’d met his match in Alana. Mayhap he shouldn’t have given in but he didn’t regret it. Somehow he would make everything right. Somehow he would persuade Laird Dougall to let him marry Alana. He’d taken her now. Dougall could hardly deny him his right to her.

  And nothing on Earth could make him let her go now. He only hoped giving into his desire hadn’t put her in danger. He still needed to remain focused until Margot had been caught and there had still been no word from Finn. Or Alana’s father. It was as if the man didn’t even care his daughter was missing.

  Unable to resist any longer, he touched one rosy nipple, his scowl quickly turning into a smile as she released a small moan. Did she dream of him? Lord knows, he dreamed of her often enough. But the reality proved far better than he ever imagined.

  Her eyelids fluttered open, an inviting smile on her face. “Good morrow,” she said softly, voice still husky from sleep.

  “Good morrow.”

  Need, deep and powerful rolled through him as she stretched with no concern for her naked state. Her eyes widened as her gaze fixed onto his face. She parted her legs in silent invitation. Blood roared in his ears as she offered herself up to him.

  Thoughts of slow and careful vanished and he settled swiftly between her thighs, pushing them further apart. He resisted the urge to kiss her, wanting to see her face in the daylight as he took her. He filled her in one movement, delighting in her strangled gasp and large green eyes.

  Driven by pure primitive instinct, he left her no time to adjust as he merged with her. Alana gripped at his rear, urging him closer as her fiery heat consumed him.

  “Aye, take me, Morgann. Make me yers.”

  He shuddered as her words echoed his thoughts and he moved relentlessly inside her. He wouldn’t last long but neither would she. Already she quivered around him, on the cusp of a climax. Something elemental held them both captive and her eyes clouded with tears.

  “Dinnae cry,” he soothed, even as he kept up his brutal pace. “I love ye, Alana.”

  “I. Love. Ye. Too,” she ground out as her passion crested.

  Her words and her spasms took him by surprise, a searing explosion that had him rasping her name. The gratification ebbed, leaving behind a warm satisfaction and a grin on his face.

  Alana’s lips quirked as he stared down at her, aware he probably looked a fool.

  "Yer a scoundrel, Morgann MacRae."

  "Aye, but I'm yer scoundrel."

  She traced a finger across his jawline. "Aye, I suppose ye are."

  "Ye suppose?" He pressed up onto his hands and tried to look offended. "Ye dinnae need to make it sound like a hardship. There's no 'suppose' about it. Yer mine now, Alana. Just as I'm yers."

  "As ye will." She released a light laugh.

  "I'll be marry—" He paused and turned as someone pounded at the door. "Ach, who could that be?" He clambered off Alana with a scowl as he searched for his shirt. He tugged it on, eyeing Alana as she slipped from the bed, a sheet wrapped around her and held in one hand. "Dinnae go anywhere," he ordered. "Stay here and shut the door."

  "But—"

  "Dinnae argue with me, lass. Stay here and stay naked."

  She slapped playfully at his arm as he fastened his plaid and slipped into his boots. As she slumped onto the bed, sheet still wrapped loosely around her, he shook his head. A more tempting sight he'd never seen. Tousled hair, bare shoulders, slender legs peeking out from the cotton sheet. Hell, he wanted her again. He only hoped this was Finn with some good news. If they'd finally caught Margot he could hand her to Dougall for punishment and request Alana's hand. There was no way the man would forgive Margot for nearly killing his only daughter and any talk of an alliance between Margot and Dougall would be finishe
d. The MacRae lands would be out of danger and Morgann would have Alana as his own.

  Hopefully.

  The hammering continued as he carefully closed the chamber door behind him, stealing one last peek at Alana as she pouted in mock annoyance.

  "Aye, aye, I'm coming." He stomped across the hall floor and threw open the door. A young brown-haired lad, no more than eighteen summers stood in the doorway.

  "My laird?"

  "Aye, what is it ye want?" Morgann didn't manage to keep the annoyance from his voice. Damnation. He'd really hoped it was Finn. All this waiting was going to drive him mad.

  The lad shrank back. "Forgive me, my laird. I've been sent to tell ye that the witch has been spotted."

  Hope pressed a smile across his face. "Where, lad?"

  "To the east. Past the red hill. There's an old cottage."

  Morgann nodded. He knew of the ancient dwelling. He'd ridden past it several times. "I thank ye, lad. What's yer name? I've no' seen ye before."

  "I'm from the village. I'm Big Tom."

  Turning, Morgann snatched his sword and leather pouch. He fished out a coin and pressed it into Tom's palm. "My thanks. Be off with ye now."

  Tom nodded and hurried away. Morgann grinned. Finally he'd bring his stepmother to justice. Finn must have spread the word that he was looking for Margot. He glanced over his shoulder to see Alana stood in the chamber doorway, still wrapped in a sheet.

  "Ach, I told ye—”

  "Yer going after her then." She bit her lip.

  "Aye."

  "Be careful, Morgann. I dinnae trust her."

  "Nor do I. Which is why I've got to make sure she's caught."

  "I fear for ye."

  Heart warmed by her concern, Morgann closed the gap between them and rubbed his hands up and down her bare arms. "There's no need for ye to worry, lass. She's no match for me. I'll be back in yer bed before long."