Highlander's Torn Bride (Highlander's Seductive Lasses Book 2)

by Adamina Young

  “Isobel and I are just so different,” she confessed. “I tried so hard to emulate her whenever I thought that I was failing to meet your expectations, but I guess I did not try hard enough. For that, I am truly sorry, for it would not have made you question me so much if I had just been clear. And, I ken that I have no right to ask this of you, but I will anyway: please place the punishment for this upon me, not my clan. They did nothing—”

  Alexander’s hand was suddenly back behind her head and he was pulling her to him, pressing his mouth against hers. Margaret gasped and pulled back, but he pressed himself to her again.

  “Alexander!” she finally gasped, feeling herself rather short of breath.

  Alexander was leaning his head against her shoulder, letting out a long sigh and saying, “Thank God.”

  “What?”

  “I finally ken who you are, lass. You canna imagine how good that feels.”

  “Good? I am not a noble, I am not the person you should have married.”

  “And thank God for that too,” he said.

  “So,” Margaret asked, shifting uncomfortably and wondering if now would be the best time for her to jump from his lap and run, “are you going to have me beheaded?”

  Alexander laughed. It wasn’t like his laugh from earlier, which had been marked with pain and anger. This was a true laugh, and she let the sound reverberate within her, hoping she would remember the sound until she took her last breath.

  “Of course not, lass, though I think it would be wise for us to keep further mention of this strictly between us.”

  “Really?” Margaret asked, scrambling in his lap so she was facing him fully, straddling him and taking his face in her hands so she could try and see whether or not he meant it.

  “Aye, lass, really. You’re still a high-ranking lass of Clan Gunn, through your mother. And, to be even more honest, the woman I was in lo—” Alexander started, but then he froze, his face falling a bit.

  “Alexander? What is it?”

  “Can I ask you another question, lass?”

  “Of course. I think I have rid myself of any attempts at further secrecy.”

  He took her hands and pulled them from his face, though his golden eyes never left her green ones. “Gavin, you said that you have no more wish to be with him, but is that true? Would you go to him now if I gave you the freedom to do so?”

  Margaret wanted to slap him again. Alexander Mackay was a cruel man, so quick to throw his words against her like a tidal wave, yet those waves never stayed long enough to really come to understand.

  “Nay, Alexander, I would not. If you’ll have me, I’d like to stay right where I am.”

  He raised an eyebrow, then looked down at how she was straddling him. “I canna say that I would mind that.”

  Margaret blushed and began to try and quit the position, but he held her there, grinning. “Then I have to tell you I love you, lass.”

  Margaret stopped struggling. Her chest felt like it was full of fireworks, with tiny explosions of heat and wonder bursting here and there. “I love you too,” she said. Before she could cry, though, he was upon her, pressing his lips to hers in a way that was so completely new. Their first kiss had been magnetic. Their kiss the night before had been passionate. This kiss, though, was none of those things, yet all of them at the same time. It was just them. Full of the warmth of the sun and the serenity of the moon; the desperate passion of something new and the simple comfort of something well understood.

  Alexander ran his hands under her rear and then stood, carrying her in his arms across the room before lowering her to the bed.

  As he began to slowly undo the laces, she dug her fingers into his shirt and pulled it off, their lips only parting from each other for the moment that it took her to pull it over his head. With such free access to his skin now, Margaret let her hands roam him, traveling wherever she pleased before her hand finally settled on his hip, where she pressed her thumb into the same place she had the night before, along the joint where leg met hip.

  Alexander immediately intensified the kiss, his tongue diving deeper into her and drawing her into his passions. His hands began to work more quickly, finishing her unlacing and pulling the bodice aside, his mouth pulling from hers and diving to the freshly revealed skin while his hands continued to work on pulling the dress off of her. When the skirt was finally around her knees, Margaret kicked it off, making him chuckle against the skin of her thigh, the vibrations of which shook through her and made her release a low gasp of surprise and satisfaction.

  Alexander’s mouth trailed up along her, and she waited for him to reach her own lips again, but he suddenly straightened his elbows, putting a bit of space between them.

  “What is it?” Margaret asked through heavy breaths.

  Alexander’s eyes slowly rose to hers. “It was too dark last time. I didna get to see you, not really.”

  Margaret blushed. She could have said the same thing about him. In the darkness, all she had seen of him was an outline. From there, she had felt the shapes of him, drawing a map of his muscles as they crossed and curved over him. It was far more satisfying to be able to see what she was touching in the light of day, and Margaret indulged herself in the moment, tracing a fingertip along the ridges of his abs as they descended down him like steps ending in a deep V, the hard point of which was still hidden beneath his kilt.

  “Well, do you like what you see?” Margaret asked, her eyes flitting back up to his when she felt him shiver.

  “Aye, canna you tell?” Alexander asked, leaning forward and pressing himself against her so she could feel his stiffness on her, even with the kilt still separating them.

  Margaret felt a small moan escape her when he next moved, the fabric of the kilt and the firm heat beneath it combing to create a sensation that was foreign but welcomed against her most sensitive area.

  “Are you that excited already?” Alexander smirked, his hand descending to the place where he was pressed up against her and slipping into her folds. “Donna you ken that there is still so much we have to do first?”

  Margaret had never been one to explore herself. Her life had been too chaotic, her emotions too painful, to seek that sort of feeling. So, it took her by surprise when Alexander’s finger merely pressed upon her at one point and she felt her entire body quake.

  “No… ah…” Margaret sighed as his finger, still pressed against her, began to move. Between that and the omnipresent pressure of him pushing against her opening, yet never able to slip inside, Margaret felt her better sense leaving her. Feeling this way, like a ship trapped in a typhoon, couldn’t have been safe. Yet, despite her objection, no part of her was willing for it to end. Which was why Margaret’s eyes snapped open when Alexander’s fingers pulled away, the pressure he had been putting on her receding.

  “What? You said no,” Alexander said, though the soft smile and glint in his eyes revealed that he knew exactly what she was feeling.

  “Alexander,” Margaret groaned, feeling her hips move against him without her consent as they sought the touch he had just stolen away.

  He bent down, is chest coming down to hover just above hers, so close that she could feel the gentle tickle of his chest hair against her breasts. Now that he was closer, a bit of the pressure had returned, and her hips bucked wildly in that direction, trying to feel more of him.

  “Do you want to continue?” he whispered, and she could hear the teasing edge to the words.

  “You already ken that I do,” she replied, her voice half a cry and half a moan from her desperation.

  His touch returned, but the pressure did not. Instead, he slid down her body, going off the edge of the bed and placing his face between her legs.

  “What are you—ah!” Margaret cried out as he kissed her, his tongue slipping out to dart across her. All of her nerves were suddenly thrumming. She had felt this way the night before, but it hadn’t been quite like this. It had been like a bee sting compared to a cannonball. Eve
ry nerve moving from sharp tingles to lighting strikes.

  Margaret gasped, about ready to call him off lest she truly fall apart, but her voice came out as a cry as the feeling reached its pinnacle, shoving her off of the edge and letting her go sinking slowly down into a happy oblivion.

  Margaret struggled to catch her breath, rubbing the sweat from her face as she did. She could hear the soft tinkle of a belt coming undone, then the soft thud of fabric being thrown across the room moments later. When she reopened her eyes, Alexander was laying on his side beside her, looking down at her with a bemused smile.

  “Do you love me more now than you did before?”

  She blushed, not wanting to give him an even bigger head by admitting that she did.

  Alexander either realized that he would receive no answer, or he grew too impatient to coax it from her, because his lips returned to hers, pulling back up the passions that she had thought to have just set aside. Their hands roamed each other, his sliding to her breasts while hers went to his waist. She finished the descent she had started earlier, sliding her finger along the V built into him until there was no further south to go. Somehow, on instinct, she grew a bit bold and settled a firm grip around him.

  It was like fire in her hand, though she was not sure if it was his own excitement or hers that was generating the heat. She moved her hand in the same sort of way that he had moved with her body the night before, and it must have done something, because he broke their kiss, collapsing his face down to rest on his shoulder while he groaned. Then, without warning, he reached down and pulled her hand away, pinning it above her head.

  Margaret, shocked, turned to protest, but was silenced by the heaviness in his eyes and the slight part of his lips.

  “Where the hell,” he breathed, “did you learn that trick, temptress?”

  Margaret went to reply, but his kiss beat her to it, simultaneously moving himself so that his tip was just barely against her opening, a more tantalizing tease than it had been with the kilt still trapped between them.

  Alexander broke his mouth away from hers, his breathing ragged. “Can I, lass?”

  “Why bother asking?” she asked, wanting nothing more than to escape the strength of his grip on her and to lower herself over him.

  “Because, the way I see it,” he said, trailing kisses across her chest, “tis the first time I am bedding you right, while I ken who you are and ken that you’re really mine.”

  Margaret nodded, not knowing what she could say to that. In the way that he meant, this was their first time. As he pushed himself into her, which was far easier now than it had been the night before, he let out a long breath against her neck.

  He went slowly for only a minute before their rhythm began to move faster. Then, without warning or word, he flipped her, and she was on top of him, their rhythm not breaking, only just barely changing as she quickly adapted to the new position, relishing in the feeling of power it gave her. Margaret looked down at him and saw that he wasn’t minding it either while his hand wrapped around her, grabbing her and helping her as she lifted nearly all the way off of him before coming crashing down each time.

  She cried out now whenever he filled her, unable to feel anything else but that building peak. But the pinnacle no longer frightened her, she wanted to reach it. She wanted to throw herself off of it again and again. Alexander must have felt it, too, for his own lifts began to move faster, carrying her over him until, with mutual cries, the release came for them both.

  Margaret collapsed onto his chest, breathing heavily, enjoying the feeling of him still inside her. Alexander wrapped her arms around her, keeping her in place.

  “Tell it to me again,” she whispered when both of their breaths had slowed.

  “I love you,” he replied, not needing to ask what she meant.

  11

  “Jonah is going to think I murdered you,” Alexander said as he pulled a fresh kilt from the trunk along the wall.

  “You damn near did,” she grumbled into the pillow, making Alexander laugh.

  He and Margaret had spent the rest of the day and the entire night in their chamber, alternating between brief sleep and far more enjoyable activities. Ann had stocked the room with apples and bannocks the day before, so they had been given no reason to leave.

  Alexander would have been tempted into another such morning if the castle steward hadn’t knocked on the door, full of hesitation and embarrassment, to inform him that he had a pile of work that needed tending to.

  “Do you think I’m capable of that? Murder?”

  “You did scare me something awful at our wedding, you ken. That stare of yours is more powerful than you could imagine. I nearly faltered and ran from the church when I saw it.”

  He smiled, knowing exactly which stare she was meaning. After making a fool of himself before her the day prior, Alexander had been committed to being the picture of a proud Highland lover on the day of their wedding, so that Margaret could see his strength before she said her vows. He had channeled all of his care, his growing affection, and his desire to know more of her into his eyes when she had appeared before him to walk down the aisle. Apparently, it had paid off.

  “Of course my gaze made you falter. You were seeing the look of a man who had already come to ken that he was going to love you forevermore,” Alexander said, bending down to kiss her bright red cheek. “I’ll be back. I’d say donna move, but I’ll bet Ann is going to come charging in soon after I leave this room, so tis up to you on what state you’d like her to find you.”

  She was scrambling from the blankets before he could even shut the door behind him. And, sure enough, he saw Ann poking her head from around the corner. When she saw him, she furrowed her brow and poked her head out further.

  “Relax,” he told her. “I think I may ken as much as you now.”

  “She told ye everything, then?” Ann asked.

  “Aye,” Alexander said, adding for proof, “I hear the Thurso leather trade offers work opportunities to many.”

  Ann sighed, touching her fingers to her temple, “Bless that lass. Well, based on yer expression, all is well with the subject?”

  “Aye, though I’d imagine you’ll wish to confirm that with the other party. She may need another minute, though.”

  Now Ann was the one blushing, something that caught him off guard and gave him, for a moment, a bit of hope for Jonah. Alexander started to walk away from her when she called after him, “Wait! I have another matter to discuss. I received a letter from Braemore this morning. Twould seem that my brother took ill shortly after we departed. They have asked for me to go and tend to him. May I?”

  Alexander shrugged. “So long as Margaret gives you leave. The castle steward is a Sutherland by blood. I’ll have him escort you so as not to cause any trouble.”

  “Thank you!” Ann called, just as she opened the door to their chambers. Her thanks were quickly replaced by exclamations about the mess.

  Three weeks had come and gone since Ann had left, and Alexander found Margaret in poor spirits without her.

  “You work all day,” she said, tugging at the hem of his kilt as he dressed one morning, “and there is no one else to talk to in the castle.”

  “Jonah?” Alexander had suggested.

  Margaret pursed her lips. “I do not have that much energy.”

  Alexander knew who it was that Margaret truly missed, and it was not Ann. It was her sisters, Mariah and Laura. Alexander had learned their names from Margaret as she called out for them in her sleep, telling one not to play on the rocks, and the other to stop making such a fuss over a torn boot.

  Knowing that Margaret had filled every day of her prior life with both the care of her sisters and a heavy workload on the dock, he was not entirely sure how she would manage to fill her days now that she was here living a life of leisure. Alexander and Jonah had younger siblings she could have cared for, but they were with their parents in Tongue and had no plans to return soon. As for work, it was st
ill too dangerous to risk any sort of exposure of her identity via her acting too against the mold. While Alexander had forgiven her of anything relating to the original deception, his parents, the queen, and a good number of their allied clans would feel no such tenderness.

  So, all that remained for Margaret was to mope about the castle all day, searching for new friends and hobbies wherever she could, but finding none. Over the past few weeks, Alexander had seen a void widening in her heart; it was a void that had formed when she had given up the part of herself that she had created in Thurso. For a time, her constant monitoring of her speech and action had preventing her from feeling the full force of the emptied space, but now, with nothing better to do, it was growing more noticeable.

  Margaret had tried to find ways to fill her time by asking the servants to give her some sort of manageable task. They had, in return, given her a tidy needlepoint project or suggested she practice her music or drawing. This had vexed Margaret, whose education as a merchant’s daughter had not extended to such fine arts.

  “I could check the mathematics on your reports,” Margaret asked one day, begging him for something to do. “Or, I could create a report examining the clan’s current assets.”

  “Or, you could go practice your needlepoint,” Rob had replied, grinning at her. He hadn’t been trying to be cruel, but she had already created a report for him that week, and the clan’s business was not so complex that it needed an update just yet. She had stormed from the room anyway, snatching whatever book she happened to pass as she went, so long as the cover was unfamiliar to her.