“I hate this,” Cora whispered to herself. She walked into the stables, disconsolate, and found the stall where Ian’s favorite gelding was kept. He was in there, head down and drowsing slightly, but when he saw her coming he made a soft sound of welcome and thrust his head into her hands. She inhaled the scent of horse, letting it calm her as it always had, letting a few tears of frustration be soaked up by his mane and the soft hair on his neck. Seeming to sense her need, he stayed very still, comforting him with the warmth of her body.
“Good boy,” she murmured after a while. “You’re not a spy, are you?”
He shook his mane and lipped gently at her shoulder.
Cora laughed. “I’ll take that as a no.”
She left him with his nose buried in his pail of oats, and walked back toward the castle. She was still scared, and frustrated, and angry — she felt confused and powerless, full of a restless energy that she didn’t know what to do with. She needed to talk to someone — be with someone who would understand, but not ask too much of her. Audrina, perhaps? She’d always been a good listener when she needed to be...
But it wasn’t Audrina’s chambers that she found herself wandering to — it wasn’t Audrina’s door that she knocked on, almost without realizing how she’d gotten there. It was Ian MacClaran’s, and he tilted his head to the side when he opened the door, a little confused to see her.
“Ian,” she said, not knowing what else to say.
He stood back to let her in, a cautious look in his eye — but a muted pleasure, too. He was glad to see her. Well, she was glad to see him, too. She stood in the middle of his room (unmade bed, she noted with wry amusement, and a sea of plates and cups left in an untidy heap on the table.)
“I wasn’t expecting —”
“No, I know. I’m sorry to disturb you. I just — needed to see you.”
“Was there something you needed to talk to me about?” he asked, and she could tell he was trying to sound nonchalant, but there was a shaking in his voice that gave him away.
A smile crossed her face. “No. I’m not here to talk.”
Ian opened his mouth and closed it again, looking nonplussed.
Don’t overthink it, Cora. She stepped closer to him, closer again — until she was right up against his chest. He didn’t break eye contact, though she could see the confusion his eyes beginning to give way to hope.
“Cora —” he started.
She stood on her tiptoes to grab the back of his head and pull him into a fierce kiss. It was stronger than the gentle kiss they’d shared on the battlements — she wanted to make it absolutely clear what she wanted from him, what she needed. He responded readily, deepened the kiss, carefully put his arms around her, squeezing her tighter as she pressed her body encouragingly against his. They broke apart after a moment, and she was pleased to note that he was breathing harder than he had been. He blinked a few times, shook his head as though trying to clear it.
“Are you — is this — what you want?” he asked, a little breathless, clearly fighting down his desire for her.
“No,” she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm and fondness. “I thought I’d just come to your chambers and seduce you for a practical joke. Pretty funny, right?”
A grin broke out across his face — he had such a beautiful smile. “Cruel of ye.”
“What are you going to do about it?” she challenged.
He needed no further encouragement after that. They crashed into each other like waves, the tension that had been building since their kiss on the battlements finally finding its release. It had been longer than that, though, she thought as he kissed a line down her throat, making her gasp — there had been a spark and an energy between them the first night they’d met, even in the dark, with him covered in mud and swearing up a storm, her wearing strange clothes from another time and still at a complete loss as to where she was. Well, she knew where she was now — she was in Castle MacClaran, being undressed with some urgency by a handsome Scottish warrior with the most beautiful hazel eyes she’d ever seen.
His shirt was easy enough to drag off his shoulders and toss across the room — she ran an admiring hand across his muscular torso, broad and powerful, densely packed with the muscle needed to wield the broadsword that was leaning against the wall by the door. She pulled him down onto his bed on top of her, heedless of the tangle of blankets beneath them, pressed his naked torso to hers and lost herself to the heat and intensity of his kiss. Pausing briefly to caress his muscular back, her hands stole across his midsection and down to the belt of his kilt — where she encountered some difficulties.
“How — on Earth — does this thing work?” she demanded breathlessly, breaking away from the kiss to yank fruitlessly at the fabric. He chuckled, an unbelievably arousing sound that buzzed against her ear.
“Not so clever now, are you?”
“Take it off,” she demanded, yanking at it again.
He shrugged, teasing her. “Well, if you’re going to give up that easily, you mustn’t really want me...”
“Ian!”
He grinned, covering her throat in kisses until she was writhing beneath him, hands roaming frantically across the fastenings of the kilt. Briefly, she tried to press against his length through the kilt itself — but the fabric was too thick to allow her to feel anything, and besides, she couldn’t do what she really wanted to do until they were both naked. He had already pulled her skirt from her legs, and she was almost naked beneath him, only her underclothes remaining as a barrier between them.
“This isn’t fair,” she whined, drumming her fists petulantly against his back as he continued the line of kisses down her neck and across her bare chest. Ever so lightly, he flicked his tongue across her nipple, and she arched her back, uttering a moan that made her clap her hand over her mouth.
He chuckled against her ample bosom. “Stone walls, lassie. Nobody will hear us.”
“Good,” she breathed, squirming as his lips continued their voyage downwards — he traced a careful line along her hipbone and she whimpered, bucking her hips up toward him as he hovered teasingly a few inches from the area still covered by her underpants. She reached down to pull them off for him, but he blocked her hand, glancing up at her and raising an eyebrow.
“Wouldn’t be fair,” he murmured, deliberately close, and she moaned at the sensation of his hot breath through the fabric. “For you to be naked, and me still dressed —”
“So undress!” she growled, bucking her hips up toward him again — and he grinned, and held her legs down, and gently kissed her hipbone again, moved down to the crease of her thigh. He teased her for what felt like days, never quite reaching the place she so desperately needed him to — until she cracked, and begged, and arched her back coquettishly so her breasts were on full display. It was her most effective trick, and it worked. With a low sound of need, he pulled her underpants off and tossed them aside, kissed a fiery line up the side of her leg and finally, finally — she almost screamed as his tongue parted her folds and traced an electrifying circle around her clitoris. Cora buried her hands in his hair as he continued to trace gentle patterns across the most sensitive part of her, arching her back as he brought her inexorably closer and closer to the edge. God, it had been a long time since she’d been with a lover — and never one this skilled —
Just as she was sure she was about to come, her hands fisted tightly in his hair, he slowed his pace — whimpering a protest, she looked down at him to realize that without her even noticing, he’d removed the kilt that had given her such trouble. He moved up the bed toward her now, and she felt the full length of him drag and press against her thigh.
“God,” she murmured, taking in the sight of him for a moment. “You’re — you’re incredible.”
“I could say the same to you, Cora Wilcox,” he replied softly, gazing down at her.
“Go on, then,” she rejoined, grinning, and he laughed, shifted her hips beneath him, and slid his length inside
her with a groan that he buried against her neck. They moved together, breathing hard, and he’d teased her so thoroughly and brought her so incredibly close to the edge of climax that it wasn’t long before she felt that familiar feeling building low and taut in her belly. She clenched her fists against his back, pulling him to her with new urgency, and he obeyed her wordless instruction, thrusting harder and faster until she felt herself build, build, build — and crash over the edge with a scream loud enough to disturb the whole castle. He wasn’t far behind her, and she realized dizzily that he’d been holding himself back from the edge, waiting until she was satisfied to allow himself to climax too.
He rolled to the side and they lay together in a tangle of sweaty limbs and pounding hearts, her head pillowed on his chest and his arm curled around her shoulders. After a long and blissful few minutes, he shifted a little, glanced down at her with a tiny smile playing around his lips.
“What?”
“Been in Scotland a week and still no idea how a kilt works. For shame, lassie.”
Chapter 18
It wasn’t long before Cora was spending most of her evenings in Ian’s chambers. It felt a little silly to have two fires burning when they only needed one — she told herself she was being practical, though she couldn’t help blushing as she informed Margaret that she needn’t worry about setting a fire in her room in the evenings anymore. The headwoman barely raised an eyebrow, though Cora swore she could see the slightest suggestion of a smile playing around her lips when she thought Cora had stopped looking.
Ian was absolutely delighted by the attention she paid him, and seemed to strive to outdo any gesture of affection she tried to offer. One morning she brought him a cup of tea in bed — the next morning she awoke to an entire hot breakfast laid out across the blankets for her. She tidied his quarters a little, taking his cups and plates down to the kitchen and straightening the place up a little — when she next entered the room there was a new painting hung on the wall, a magnificent rendition of a proud black stallion a little like the black gelding she’d grown so fond of. After a minute, she recognized it as one he’d shown her on that day that now felt so long ago, the afternoon he’d taken her on a little tour of the castle. She’d mentioned liking it — and he’d not only remembered that, he’d had it brought to his room to make her happy. She soon gave up on trying to compete with him for favors and demonstrations of affection — it was a game he was just too good at. And she was happy to be spoiled.
Somehow, within twelve hours of their first afternoon together, the entire castle seemed to know about it. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have sworn that Ian must have told someone, but a little bit of investigating revealed that a handful of servants had seen her leaving his room with her hair in disarray and a blissful grin on her face. Servants! No wonder Mary was so paranoid about spies everywhere. They saw absolutely everything. That had to have been why Margaret always looked so knowledgeable — she must have been at the center of a vast network of information. At any rate, the gossip had spread like wildfire, and Ian just spread his hands apologetically when they walked into the dining hall together for dinner and half of the hall fell to furious whispering.
She had been a little worried, once the passion of their initial urgent encounter had faded, that she would be viewed negatively for such — behavior. Called a slut, or a whore, or a fallen woman — she briefly entertained a horrible vision of herself being cast out of the castle, of Colin MacClaran himself slamming the door shut after her. She brought these concerns to Audrina, who proceeded to squeal delightedly for about ten minutes about how thrilled she was that they’d come together, and then dismiss the moralistic concerns with a flick of her hand.
“I was surprised by it, too, but everyone is pretty open about sex. You’d be surprised how many children are born less than nine months after the wedding,” she added, with a wink that made Cora giggle. “Speaking of — I suppose you know by now that condoms aren’t exactly falling from the sky yet —”
“Queen Anne’s lace,” Cora said, waving her hand. “Women have been using it for hundreds of years. It makes a nice tea.”
“You’re clever,” Audrina said happily, hugging her. “I’m so glad you and Ian are happening. He’s a wonderful man, honest, Cora.”
“A popular one, too,” Cora pointed out. Not that she was worried — but since they’d started seeing each other, she’d begun to notice the way the servants behaved around him. That was probably why the rumors had spread so quickly. Ian MacClaran was the castle’s most eligible bachelor, it seemed.
“Oh, yes, there’ll be some broken hearts now you’ve taken him off the market, for sure,” Audrina sighed, smiling. “But you’ve nothing to worry about with him. He’s loyal to a fault, that man.”
“I don’t know how permanently he’s off the market,” Cora said, a little uncomfortable. “You’re making it sound like we’re engaged.”
“Oh, didn’t you know? Once you make love, you’re engaged. That’s just how it works here.”
“It is cruel to tease your oldest friend, Audrina James,” Cora intoned solemnly, though she had to admit, she’d almost fallen for it. Ian certainly wasn’t acting like it had been a casual encounter — and she’d already practically moved in with him. Things moved fast in medieval Scotland, it seemed. Well, she was happy to go along with it. He made her happy — he was kind, and funny, and a good companion who seemed to honestly care about her. Why not let herself be swept away for a little while? It felt good to have something pleasant to think about. There was Audrina and the babies, of course, and the beautiful country that she was falling in love with more and more every day, but the specter of Bellina was weighing heavily on her mind. Ian banished those worries, and for that she was grateful.
But some things couldn’t be banished for long.
Chapter 19
Cora had drifted off to sleep in Ian’s arms as they usually did after a long evening spent in bed, talking and laughing into the small hours of the morning — along with a few other activities that passed the time rather pleasantly. More and more, she found they were talking about the future — not the immediate future, but a more distant one, months and years down the track rather than weeks and days. And the more she thought about it, the more she didn’t mind it. Maybe it was just new love, the giddy rush of emotion and infatuation that accompanied a new relationship. In the early days, it felt like anything was possible — then the honeymoon phase would wear off and reality would reassert herself. But she had a feeling that this time was different.
That morning, it had been a good hour before she remembered that the castle hadn’t always been her home. San Francisco was like a distant dream — she could no longer remember every single turn of the drive to work, or even what it felt like to drive a car. She much preferred riding, these days — she and Ian would take long rambling rides out over the moors. She mostly rode the black horse, who she’d named Hamish after her black cat from her old life — Ian said he’d never named the beast, preferring to refer to him by a series of profanities.
“That’s why he doesn’t like you,” Cora told him, exasperated, as she fed the horse a piece of carrot she’d thieved from the kitchens for him. “He just needed a name and a little bit of love. Didn’t you, Hamish? Didn’t you, my sweet?”
“I had an uncle called Hamish,” Ian muttered. “Terrible auld bastard.”
They had visited the village a few times, but Cora was afraid to spend much time there — Mary’s warning was still ringing in her mind. Every curious eye that turned to look at her was cause for concern, even though it was vastly more likely that the village folk were just interested to see who Ian MacClaran was stepping out with. There were rumors of their marriage flying about left right and center, of course, and though Ian never brought it up, she had a suspicion that if she suggested it he’d just about faint with happiness. Well, that was a question for another day.
And this day had been a long one. They’d gone
for a nice long ride that morning, then spent the afternoon with the babies — it was laundry day, and two babies meant twice as much washing to do for the staff. Colin and Audrina were out of the castle on a diplomatic errand of some kind, so Cora and Ian had taken the babies off the hands of the nurses so they could focus on the mammoth heaps of laundry. Though Cora didn’t miss much about San Francisco, she had to admit that a washing machine was a luxury she’d never fully appreciated.
But it had been an exhausting day — and of course, when they’d fallen into bed together that night they’d immediately grown distracted with each other. Not that she’d have forsaken that time for a few extra hours of sleep — hell, if he wasn’t soundly asleep right now she’d have been up for a second round. Cora had always thought of herself as someone who didn’t particularly enjoy sex, but that was before she’d tried it with a partner as skilled and attentive as Ian.
These pleasant thoughts carried her to sleep…where there was a cold room waiting for her, with colder chains binding her hands and feet. She stared up into the face of her tormentor, defiant as blood streamed down her head from the fresh wound in her scalp. Spat some blood onto the floor. They’d had her prisoner for twelve hours now, and she was determined that they wouldn’t break her spirit, no matter how much pain they tried to inflict on her.
“And when did you forsake the Lord your God for witchcraft?” the man in front of her asked, the tone of his voice bored and complacent.
“I didn’t,” she spat. “It’s you who’ve forsaken Him. Torturing innocents. Thou shalt not kill!”
The next blow hit her on the other side of the head and knocked her dizzy. When the room revolved back into view, the man was unmoved.
“When did you forsake the Lord your God for witchcraft?”
Highlander Warrior Page 10