Highlander’s Buried Identity (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance)

by Shona Thompson

  Sine had to admit that, from the first moment she met Seoras, she thought that there was something odd about him. It seemed to her as though he was the kind of man to keep many secrets, and that wasn’t the kind of man that she would want in her life.

  Besides, no matter how much she had tried to convince herself that she could forget about Finlay, she knew that her heart had different plans. How could she say no to him when he was looking at her like that, so raw and open, begging her to give him a second chance?

  “Dinnae hurt me again,” she said, as she took Finlay’s hands in hers and helped him stand up.

  Finlay went easily, following Sine’s lead, and he pressed her up against the door as he leaned into her, hands finding their way back to her hips, gripping them tightly.

  “Never.”

  Their lips met in a searing kiss, one that reminded Sine of the first they had exchanged. Her body arched up against Finlay’s, seemingly having a mind of its own, and she moaned, lips parting to allow him to slip the tip of his tongue inside her mouth.

  Sine let Finlay tug her towards the bed, where they both fell on the mattress, Finlay with his back against the sheets and Sine on top of him, her hands braced against the hard muscles in Finlay’s chest. She could feel the grooves and shapes of his body under her, a pair of strong thighs between her legs just like she had imagined, and she leaned down to kiss him again, relishing the way he responded to her touch.

  Sine soon came to the realisation that they were both wearing too many clothes, and she wanted them off. She slid her hands under Finlay’s jacket, hurriedly pushing it off his shoulders. She panted against him as she fought the jacket, all but ripping it off him in her desire to touch bare skin.

  “Easy, lass.” Finlay laughed, placing a hand on Sine’s shoulder to still her. “Ye’ll eat me whole if I let ye, nae?”

  Finlay flipped them over, pinning Sine under him with his hips and taking her hands in his, lacing their fingers together. Sine looked up at him with a devilish smirk, bucking up against him like a wild bull trying to escape his hold, just to see what he would do.

  “Ye’ll like it if I dae,” she pointed out.

  Sine had given that moment a lot of thought. Finlay had been her first; her first love, her first kiss, and now, the first to bed her. That didn’t mean though, that she didn’t have an active imagination, one that had inspired many sweating, trembling nights in her room.

  It turned out that the real thing was better.

  Finlay’s hands found their way to Sine’s corset, and they both cursed the amount of clothes that he would have to remove from her. He began to unlace it as quickly as he could, tugging and pulling on the strings in a way that loosened the top part but tightened the bottom. With a sigh of exasperation, Finlay turned a laughing Sine around, mumbling curse after curse as his fingers failed to undo the laces.

  It took him a while to get it right, but in the end, Finlay grabbed the corset and threw it on the floor with spite, as if it had personally offended him.

  The rest of the clothes flew off the two of them fast, piling onto the floor next to the bed. Sine finally had Finlay on display for her, smooth skin marred by a few scars and dusted with ginger hairs. She raked her fingernails over his thighs, and Finlay replied with a shiver, his own fingers reaching up to curl around Sine’s hair.

  Sine took Finlay’s hand in hers and led it to her breast, making him cup the swell of it. She idly wondered if Finlay had ever bedded another woman before, but judging from the way that he was fumbling, just like she was, she could only assume that it was his first time too.

  Finlay’s hand moved from her breast down to her stomach, swirling his fingers in small circles on her skin and making her laugh. He buried his face in the groove of her neck, peppering soft kisses on her skin as his hand trailed lower and lower, curious fingers exploring Sine’s body until they slipped between her legs.

  Sine could do nothing but moan, all her senses diminished to that one point of contact between her and Finlay. She took a shuddering breath, her legs falling wider apart on their own volition. Her breasts rose and fell as she panted, enticing Finlay to lean closer and suck a nipple into his mouth.

  The need for Finlay to take her was agonising. Sine could feel the warmth between her legs, wetness spreading on her thighs and making her skin sticky as Finlay pleasured her with his fingers.

  Silently, Sine pulled Finlay on top of her, her hands grabbing his buttocks to urge him closer. She wanted to feel him, all of him. Finlay seemed to understand her request, because next thing she knew, he was entering her slowly, until his hips were nestled tightly against her thighs.

  For a moment, neither of them moved. Sine and Finlay gazed at each other, both panting as though they had run for miles. Then Finlay began to move slowly, torturously so, each small thrust of his hips drawing another sound from Sine. She tilted her head back, gaze on the ceiling, but then Finlay slid a hand between her head and the mattress and made her look at him as he rocked against her.

  When she first felt Finlay inside her, Sine recoiled from the intrusion, every muscle in her body tensing up and trying to fight it. She could feel a sharp pain deep inside her, and her thighs clenched, trying to keep Finlay away from the sensitive flesh. Finlay didn’t stop though, still moving slowly, and Sine soon relaxed. Her legs wrapped around Finlay’s waist as if they had a mind of their own, trying to keep him deep inside her, and she could feel the wetness of her cleft dripping down her skin with every thrust of Finlay’s hips.

  There was nothing like it that she had experienced before. The sensation of having someone else inside her, filling her up in a way that she would never think was possible was so different than all the times that she had touched herself. Feeling Finlay’s skin on her bare body, brushing over her thighs, the mounds of her breasts, her buttocks, was setting her nerve endings on fire. It was an assault of sensations, ones that made her toes curl and her mouth hang open in a moan.

  Sine had no choice but to hold Finlay’s gaze when he looked at her. She could see the beads of sweat on his skin, pooling in his collarbone, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he tried to silence his own cries—something that Sine didn’t even bother to do, instead allowing Finlay to hear every sound that he drew out of her.

  “I’ll ravish ye,” Finlay said, leaning closer to whisper in Sine’s ear. “I’ll ride ye until all ye ken is my name.”

  Sine believed that. Finlay began to thrust harder inside her, hips slamming against her own, even as the hand on her hair was gentle and comforting. With every movement of his, Finlay’s groin met hers, and every time, it hit that same spot, the one that made her breath hitch and her body tingle. At the same time, he stirred something deep in her belly, something that made her clutch onto him with her nails, her own hips moving as she tried to chase that feeling.

  Sine closed her eyes. The sensations swirled and flowed over her like an ocean, the current of her pleasure pulling her under in a pulsing darkness, her entire body strung taught against Finlay as she reached her completion with a shuddering moan, one that Finlay drowned with a kiss.

  Only then did Finlay allow himself to take his own pleasure, and he did so with a few more thrusts, Sine’s own ecstasy pushing him to the edge.

  Afterwards, the two of them lay in bed, their limbs intertwined. Sine was just content being there with Finlay, the two of them gazing in each other’s eyes, something that Sine never thought would be possible when she had first met him. He had been so reluctant to let her see his eyes at first.

  “I love ye, mo chridhe.” It was a whisper, Finlay saying it as though it was a secret. “I love ye…I love yer body, I love yer mind, I love the slippery warmth between yer legs. I want tae be inside ye all the time. I feel like I will die if I’m no’.”

  Sine laughed, turning her head to hide her face in the pillow, the fabric cool against her flushed cheek. “Ye willnae die, I can assure ye of that. But if ye insist…”

  Sine let her voi
ce trail off, and she reached for Finlay’s hand, taking it in hers and guiding it between her legs. Finlay couldn’t help but smirk at her as his fingers began to stroke her, two of them easily sliding inside her now that she was relaxed.

  “Insatiable,” Finlay mumbled against Sine’s lips as he began to curl his fingers, drawing a stuttering breath from her.

  If Sine could feel everything before, her nerves on overdrive, now she could only focus on Finlay’s fingers, the one point of pleasure that bordered on torture. It was too soon, and she was too sensitive, but she still sought out his touch, her body begging her to ask for more.

  Finlay gave her everything that she asked for, and soon Sine found herself crying out his name, pleasure overtaking her as her muscles throbbed around Finlay’s fingers.

  Sine lay there, panting and covered in sweat, Finlay lay next to her watching her with something akin to awe as he caressed her skin, his fingers that had just been inside her now circling around a nipple.

  Soon, though, reality came crashing down on them once again, and Sine was reminded that she would soon be marrying another man if they didn’t manage to escape.

  “It’s dark out. Is it time?” she asked.

  Finlay looked out of the window, at the dark sky with a new, invisible moon, and nodded. “With some luck, the men will be sleeping or still drinking. No one wi’ ken.”

  Finlay helped Sine dress, lacing up her corset clumsily. She then began to pack a few belongings, including a brooch that belonged to her mother. It was the only thing of hers that she had, the only reminder that she had once existed. Wherever Sine would end up, so would that brooch.

  Sine didn’t know where they were going, and she doubted that Finlay himself even knew. It didn’t matter though; nothing mattered, as long as they would be together.

  Sine took a last look at her room, as she grabbed Finlay’s hand, lacing their fingers together. It would be the last time she would be laying eyes upon those walls, and though she had no regrets about that, she would still miss it, her sanctuary.

  “Ready?” Finlay asked.

  Sine nodded in agreement, and the two of them crept out of the room on their tiptoes, closing the door firmly shut behind them.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brims Ness was dark under the moonless sky, even the brightest stars unable to provide the land with any decent light. It was the perfect cover for Finlay and Sine, the two of them quietly making their way out of the keep, staying low so as to not draw the attention of any men who could still be sober enough to realise that they were trying to escape.

  Sine held tightly onto her arisaid, trying to battle the chill of the wind. Brims Ness was cold at night, and she wasn’t used to being outside the castle walls when there was no light or warmth from the sun, her father forcing her to return to the castle usually before sundown.

  Finlay noticed that Sine was trembling, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trying to keep her warm. He kept his footsteps light, dead grass crunching under his shoes as he walked, all the while looking around to try and spot a potential threat.

  Ever since Seoras had come to Brims Ness, Finlay had become cautious to the point of paranoia. He didn’t trust the man, even though he was certain that he hadn’t recognised him; perhaps he hadn’t even seen him, Finlay being yet another face in the crowd, a lowly peasant that was beneath the laird.

  Still, it was better to be safe than sorry, judging by the last encounter he had had with Seoras. There were certainly worse ways to die than on the man’s sword, but in that moment, Finlay couldn’t think of a single one.

  They were nearing the creek that ran close to the castle, which led away from Brims Ness and into the wild of the highlands. It was their way out of there, as Finlay didn’t want to take the road that led in and out of the town; there was too much risk in that, and they could easily be spotted there.

  He wasn’t expecting to find anyone by the creek, and yet as he was walking in the dark, he fell onto what seemed like a wall—before he realised that it was, in fact, a man.

  Six swords were out before Finlay could take another breath; his own, plus the five of the men upon whom they had stumbled. It took Finlay a few moments to recognise the man in front of him, squinting in the darkness as he tried to make out his features.

  “Padraig,” Finlay said. “Ye bastard! If yer a man, fight me on yer own! Or are ye tae afraid I’ll kill ye before ye’ll swing yer sword?”

  “Finlay.” Padraig sounded as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. “I had a feeling it was ye. Put down yer swords, lads.”

  Padraig put his sword down, but his men hesitated, until he turned around and gave them a stern look. Even when they weren’t armed anymore, Finlay didn’t put his own sword down. He had no reason to trust Padraig, and he wasn’t going to do anything that could possibly endanger Sine.

  Sine, she was still there, having drawn out the sghian-dubh that Finlay had given her days prior, ready to fight.

  Padraig saw the glint of the blade, faint yet immediately recognizable, and he laughed. “What will ye do with that, lassie?”

  “That’s the laird’s daughter yer talking tae,” Finlay reminded him. “Keep talking like that tae her, and I’ll have yer head.”

  “It seems to me like ye’ll have my head either way.” Padraig raised his hands in surrender, but Finlay remained stiff, the hilt of his sword clenched tightly in his hand.

  “Finlay…” Sine walked closer to him, whispering in his ear. “How do ye ken him? Did ye ken him before he and Seoras came here, tae Brims Ness?”

  Sine must have spoken louder than she or Finlay had thought, because it was Padraig who answered her questions.

  “Aye, lassie. There’s many a thing that our lad here never told ye, and something tells me that he didnae tell anyone else either. Is that right, Finlay?”

  “What are ye doing here, in the middle of the night?” Finlay asked, instead of answering Padraig’s question. He didn’t have to, after all, as Padraig had always been a perceptive man. Even when Finlay was a child, Padraig could see right through him and everyone else around them.

  “We were coming to find ye,” Padraig said. “When I saw ye…when I saw yer eyes, I said to myself that is Finlay, no doubt about it. Ye look just like yer father.”

  “Dinnae speak about my father.” Finlay’s words came out in a growl, and his lips curled back as he bared his teeth. “Dinnae ever speak about him again, ye hear?”

  “Forgive me,” Padraig said, sounding more sincere than Finlay ever remembered. “I came tae find ye and make things right.”

  “Will any of ye tell me what is happening?” Sine demanded, and it was then that Finlay even remembered that she was there with him, having forgotten about her in the heat of the moment. “Finlay, what is he saying? How do ye ken each other?”

  Finlay opened his mouth to reply, but no answer came out. He could try to force himself to say it, but every cell in his body was fighting against that, shame and anger eating him up from the inside. How could he tell Sine about how he had failed his own father? How could he tell her the truth and expect her to view him the same way?

  “Finlay, please…” Sine tried again, but Finlay simply shook his head, reluctant to speak.

  “Finlay is Seoras’ nephew.” Padraig gave Finlay’s answer for him. “Ye must have seen that they look alike. Finlay takes from his father’s side.”

  Sine’s mouth fell open in shock. “No…no, Seoras said that his brother and his nephew died years ago in a hunting accident.”

  “It was nae accident.” Finlay could barely be heard over the gentle rustling of the leaves in the wind, his voice small and hesitant. “It was nae accident, Sine. Seoras killed my father in cold blood, because he wanted tae be the laird. This traitor helped him.”

  Finlay pointed at Padraig, who took a few steps backwards. “I can only ask for yer forgiveness, Finlay.”

  “Forgiveness?” Finlay hissed, spitting out the word like it was a curs
e. “Ye have the nerve to ask for my forgiveness? Ye left me alone in the woods tae die! I was ten years of age! Ye left me, wounded and alone, knowing that I wouldnae survive!”

  “But ye did,” Padraig pointed out. “Here ye are, alive and well.”

  “Well? The last thing I remember from my father is his blood on my hands as I tried to stop him from bleeding out, so I dinnae think I’m doing too well, Padraig,” Finlay said. “And I couldnae do it. I didnae save him. He is dead because I couldnae do anything to keep him alive.”

  Padraig sighed, shaking his head. “Ye were a bairn, Finlay. There was nothing ye could have done tae save him. Dinnae blame yerself for his death. If ye need someone to blame, blame me and Seoras. It was he who kil’t him, and it was I who helped him dae it.”