The Sinclair Jewels Books One-Three: A Scottish Medieval Romance Series Bundle

by Caroline Lee

  When she cut herself off with a groan, Merrick pulled himself to his feet. Her tongue darted across her lips as she stared at him, standing before her.

  “Lass?” he growled.

  “I want…” She arched against his touch, then met his eyes. “I want ye, Merrick!”

  “Aye, lass,” he said gently, not even sure she could hear him over the water.

  Still holding her gaze, he pushed his fingers into her once more, and he saw the frustration in her eyes as she began to shake her head. But her eyes flew open once more as he felt her inner muscles tighten around him, and her head lolled back as she found her release with a sigh.

  His fingers continued to stroke her gently as he watched her relax on the ledge.

  Finally, her eyes opened, and she frowned at him.

  “Why?” she demanded.

  It was hard to hear over the rushing water, so he shook his head. “I’ll no’ risk getting ye with child, Saf.”

  “What?”

  He knew he wasn’t going to find release now—possibly ever again, now that he’d given her what she wanted—so he scooped her up in his arms and pushed them back through the waterfall.

  She buried her face against his shoulder and endured the cold.

  They sloshed through the pool toward the grassy bank, where he gently laid her down and hoisted himself up as well. Once there, he couldn’t resist pulling her into his arms, his cock still pressed between them.

  “Ye ken the Sutherland reputation, lass,” he explained gently, hoping to ease her irritation. “Watching ye stand up to me today in defense of Andrew, made me see how strong ye are. Ye ken what’s best for the clan, and that’s a rare talent. Ye donae deserve to bear my bastard.”

  “Did Anna?”

  He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She was watching him carefully, the light of something in those dark blue eyes, and he winced at the question.

  “I was younger then and didnae understand what it meant. But ye—ye could be anyone. And since ye refuse to trust me with yer name, I’ll no’ risk—”

  She interrupted him by reaching up and grasping his cheeks and pulling him down for a kiss.

  It was a kiss filled with promise and apology and understanding and so much more.

  She was the one who pushed him away, his face still in her hands.

  “Ye’ll no’ risk a bastard, but if ye kenned my family, what would ye do?”

  “I’d…” He shook his head, his mind still muddled. “I donae ken.” He needed an heir, aye, but there was no telling if her clan would be willing to align with him.

  Her nose was mere inches from his, his arms pressed between her slick back and the thick grass, and when she grinned, he sucked in a breath.

  “Sapphire,” she said suddenly.

  He blinked. “What?”

  “My name is Sapphire. I’m one of the Sinclair Jewels.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Saffy held her breath, staring into his eyes and praying she’d made the right decision.

  He blinked and shook his head slightly, as if disbelieving. She tightened her hold on his face and nodded, willing him to understand what she was saying.

  He exhaled softly. “Sapphire.”

  “Sinclair.”

  “So Pearl is…”

  “My youngest sister, aye.” Pinned beneath him, still somehow unfulfilled despite her earlier release, Saffy wriggled her hips. “She was worthy enough for you, Merrick. Am I?”

  He reared back as if he’d been hit, and she let him go, her hands falling to his shoulders, praying he wasn’t leaving her.

  “Sapphire,” he croaked again, then closed his eyes tightly.

  Between them, she felt his member jump, and longed to reach down to touch him the way he’d touched himself. Slowly, she began to inch her legs apart, hoping he’d take the hint.

  “Devil,” she whispered, “You were willing to align with my father once before, and I am my father’s daughter.”

  Mayhap it was her words, or mayhap her actions, or mayhap he was contemplating something totally different. Whatever it was, she saw the moment he quit fighting, the moment he gave into her pleas.

  With a groan, he dropped his mouth to hers, then lightly kissed her cheek and jaw and neck. Triumphantly, she spread her legs, her core already aching with need once more, and didn’t bother to hold back the breathy chuckle which escaped her in anticipation.

  “Lass,” he growled, pushing himself up on one arm and reaching between them with the other to grasp his erection. “Ye’re the worthiest woman I ken. Are ye sure this is what ye want?”

  She held his gaze, despite the way her blood thrummed, urging her to arch against him, to grab him, to make him hers.

  “Ye’re what I want.”

  “God’s wounds, Saf,” he whispered, closing his eyes on a shudder.

  She tightened her hold on his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, but only succeeding in lifting herself off the grass. “Now, please,” she commanded.

  His lips twitched, and he opened his eyes once more. “Aye, lass.”

  Her core was still wet from her release—or mayhap it was in readiness for his entry. Without dropping her gaze, he stroked her once, twice, and she bucked against him. Her mouth opened on another plea, and he grinned.

  He positioned himself between her legs, then halted at her entrance. She groaned in frustration and tried to press lower, to impale herself.

  “Saf?” he asked again, his voice hoarse.

  “Aye! Aye, Merrick, hurry—Merrick!” she cried as he moved, then froze.

  The pain of being stretched caused Saffy’s eyes to fly open, her breaths coming too fast. But she focused on his lips, which were pressed in a hard line, then rose to his eyes. The expression in them was unreadable, the lines at their corners showed his concern.

  He was holding himself back. For her. That, as much as his concern, eased the pain. Or mayhap it was the time which passed. Saf took a deep breath, then another…and miraculously, the feeling of stretching was replaced by a different feeling.

  She wasn’t just being stretched, but filled.

  He was filling her the way she’d imagined, the way she’d hoped. The way she and her sisters giggled about. The way a man, his velvet-encased steel aching with need, took a woman he cared for.

  That realization, more than anything, made her smile. The sensation of being filled—by her Devil!—caused a flood of warmth to spiral through her limbs. She shifted under him, pulling her legs up, and planting her bare feet on the ground by his thighs, bracketing his hips with her knees.

  The motion helped sink him even deeper into her, and she caught her breath.

  “Saf?” he asked again.

  Under him, she moved—just slightly. A simple back and forth, a tiny movement. But both of them sucked in a gasp.

  “Please, Merrick,” she moaned. “Donae make me do this all myself.”

  He didn’t.

  If his first thrust made her gasp, then the second felt as if it sucked all the air out of her body, and by the third…well, she held on to his shoulders and lifted her rear end off the ground and met him thrust for thrust, until she felt as if she could leave her own body and float above the earth on a cloud of pleasure and joy.

  The pressure built between her legs, just above where his member claimed her. As the ache began to border on frustrating, he dropped one hand between them and pressed his thumb against the center of her pleasure.

  She jerked upright, plastering herself against his chest and screaming his name as something crashed over her. White lights exploded behind her eyes, and she clamped her knees around him in an effort to understand this breathless wonder.

  With her holding on, he thrust twice more, threw his head back, and roared.

  A warm flood of him spread throughout her body, and she knew this was what she’d been waiting for.

  If she’d had breath left, she would’ve yelled her joy right along with him.

  With a groan,
he lowered himself to the grass beside her, slipping from her. Part of her mourned the lost connection, but another was too busy gasping in joy.

  Now I ken why Pearl’s always smiling.

  The thought bubbled up inside her like laughter, and she had to open her mouth to let it escape, lest she burst with contentment.

  “That was incredible!”

  She rolled to her side, intent on thanking him. But he wasn’t looking at her. Merrick lay on his back, his member already softening against his belly, his chest heaving, and his eyes wide as he stared up at the leafy canopy.

  “Devil?” she prompted, propping herself up on one elbow and throwing a leg over his. “Are ye aright?”

  His breathing slowed, but nothing else moved. At long last, he turned to meet her eyes.

  “’Twas everything I needed, Saf.” He winced and shook his head. “I broke my vow,” he whispered as he closed his eyes.

  Unable to stop the jolt of worry which coursed through her, she placed her hand on his chest. “What do ye mean?”

  “Nae more bastards.”

  That was all he said. All he had to say.

  Saf let out a breath and withdrew her hand, to rest it over her stomach. As her eyes widened, she exhaled softly. Could she already be pregnant? He’d said that Sutherland men were unusually potent, but was it the right time of the month for her? She tried to count the days in her head, but her thoughts were too jumbled to concentrate.

  Nae more bastards.

  That had been his vow. That was why he’d rejected her offers; however subtle they’d been. That was why he hadn’t planned on joining with her.

  But he had, and it had been as glorious as she’d hoped. And if the rumors were right, she could even now be carrying his child. Interestingly, the thought of bearing his babe, even if it meant having to find her own way in the world, wasn’t as horrible as she might have thought. Mayhap it was the feeling of rightness following her release, but at that moment, the only thing she was praying for was that the babe would have his father’s dark hair and unusual eyes, unlike most of Merrick’s children.

  After Emma’s birth, only a few months ago, he must’ve decided to stop his carousing.

  “Yer vow didnae last long, Devil,” she said with a teasing grin, dragging her fingers across her own stomach, loving how alive her skin felt.

  Had she ever been completely nude in nature this way? Well, certainly not this way! A chuckle escaped her.

  At the sound, he scowled and rolled to face her with a quickness which startled her.

  “Twelve years, Saf,” he growled, his pale eyes full of something she couldn’t identify.

  Shame?

  He didn’t give her time to consider it. “I’d promised myself long ago I’d not join with another woman. I’d not risk siring more bastards.”

  “But wee Emma—” she began in confusion, but he interrupted.

  “And I’ve held to that vow.” He planted one elbow and loomed over her, grabbing her hip with his free hand and pulling her flush against him. “But ye, Sapphire Sinclair, I broke that vow for ye.”

  Her heart had begun to pound, both at his nearness and his intensity.

  Blessed Virgin, but he was being dramatic, wasn’t he?

  She lifted her chin and met his glare. “And I’ll thank the saints every day ye did, Devil.”

  He began to roll his eyes at her dramatic claim, but she stopped him with a poke in the chest. “I’ll thank the saints ye considered me at least as worthy of vow-breaking as you did the others.”

  He frowned. “Others?”

  He wasn’t that dense, was he? “Your other lovers. The ones in whose bellies you planted your babes.”

  With a noise which might’ve been a laugh, and might’ve been a groan, he fell back to the grass once more. Since he hadn’t released her, she went with him, toppling across him and not minding it at all.

  “Merrick, ye didnae think me even as worthy as—”

  “They’re no’ mine.”

  Her lips snapped shut as she stared down at him in shock. His gaze drifted from her to the leaves beyond her head.

  “They’re no’ mine,” he repeated, softer. “They’re the children of my heart, but no’ of my body. Anna bore Mary and Willie.”

  His skin was warm against hers, but she was too shocked to enjoy the sensation. “The rest…?”

  “I sired none of them, no’ even wee Beck, who more than a few people have said is my punishment for my own rambunctious childhood.” His breath escaped on a chuckle, and he lifted his head to meet her eyes. “They’re likely all Sutherlands, aye, sired by uncles or brothers I never even kenned. Maggie is one of Robbie’s gets, and possibly Nolan as well.”

  She shook her head, still trying to wrap her mind around the news. The Sutherland Devil’s band of bastards weren’t his own?

  “Have ye ever asked?” she began hesitantly.

  “Asked their mothers?” He shook his head. “Nay. By turning their children over to me, they ken the bairns will be raised healthy and happy, with as much status as I can grant them. It’s in the bairns’ best interests for the world to consider them mine, so I never dispute their mothers’ lies.”

  He was right. She knew it with a certainty she hadn’t expected. The children he was raising, the bairns the world assumed were his…their lives were so much better as beloved children of a powerful laird. Had Merrick denied them, had he exposed their mothers’ lies, and sent them away, they would not have the access to the education, training, and healthy living he provided.

  And as he said, they were Sutherlands.

  But with his vow, he’d made sure that the next generation wouldn’t have his same worries. There’d be no Robbies, no John Lindsays, intent on making life difficult for the Sutherlands. And once he sired a legitimate heir…

  “And if you marry again?” she managed to choke past the lump in her throat.

  He held her gaze. “I cannae promise there will be nae more. As long as a bairn needs a home…”

  She nodded, understanding.

  “They are…” She cleared her throat, cursing the tears in her eyes. “They are Sutherlands, after all.”

  His arms found their way to her backside, and he pressed her against him. Saffy expected the movement to stir passion in both of them, but instead, she felt a fierce sort of contentment, a fullness rising in her chest.

  “Ye understand me, lass? Ye understand why I fought yer charms for so long?”

  “Aye, and I love ye for it.”

  His dark brows shot up. “Ye do?”

  “Aye!” At his expression, she began to laugh, despite the tears which threatened. “Aye! I love ye, Merrick Sinclair, and I’ll thank every saint which led me to yer keep.”

  “Every saint?”

  “Well,” she clarified, chuckling, “I could’ve done without the stay in yer dungeon, so mayhap no’ St. Andrew.”

  Slowly, a grin pulled his lips wide. “And since ye ken my secret now, lass, and since ye’ve declared me worthy of ye, mayhap ye could explain what a Sinclair Jewel is doing sneaking into my keep in the first place?”

  Could she? She’d kept so many secrets—her sex, her identity, her mission—for so long, it was hard to remember her reasons.

  “Saf?” He prompted. “Do ye no’ trust me?”

  Slowly, her smile bloomed. She did. “I do,” she admitted.

  “Then ye’ll tell me?”

  There, lying beside the pool, cushioned by his body, and blanketed by his arms, she explained the mystery of the missing jewels. She told him about Pearl’s find of the ancient tapestry, which led Agata to the Mackenzie holding. She told him how Agata had found one of the jewels hidden under the Sutherland holding on an ancestral wooden map.

  Merrick seemed close to laughter. “And so ye came to my land, to what? To find a connection between my clan and yers? Do ye think my ancestor stole yer jewels?”

  She blew out an exasperated breath and dug her elbows into his chest, ignori
ng his wince to prop her chin on her palms. “Nay, any more than I think the Mackenzies stole them. But…”

  “But?”

  “But yer grandfather and my great grandfather married sisters. They were originally from the Campbell clan.”

  “Aye, we’ve had an alliance with them going back that long.”

  “The jewels disappeared right around the time one of the sisters came to marry my great grandda—she was his second wife. One of her sisters went to the Mackenzies, and one to the Sutherlands.”

  Gently, he coaxed her elbows out of the way, until she collapsed against him. His expression was thoughtful.

  “That is more compelling, I’ll admit.”

  Excited he was considering her theory, she straightened once more. “So, have ye seen anything which might mean the jewels are here? I’ve combed the tapestries and the histories, but I found nothing—” She broke off when he began to chuckle. “What?”

  “Nay, I’ve heard naught. I’ll help ye search, but I’m remembering how Andrew reported he’d discovered ye ’sneaking about’ and ye claimed an interest in tapestries.”

  Her lips twitched. “See? I told ye the lad was loyal.”

  He sobered instantly. “Ye did, and likely saved his hide. I intended to punish him for sullying Mary.”

  “She claimed he didnae, and I believe her. Do ye?”

  His arm snaked around her once more. “I do. But I wouldnae have taken the time to listen to her claims, had ye no’ forced me to.”

  “We make a good team, then. Ye act swiftly, precisely, and I’ll point out when ye’re being an idiot.”

  When his laughter rumbled through his chest, she felt it in the very core of her being.

  Finally, he rested his head against the grass, his eyes closed, and a smile on his lips. She decided this was the most handsome she’d ever seen him. The dappled sunlight made the silver at his temples sparkle, and the lines around his eyes were softer than she’d ever seen.

  I did that.

  Pride and contentment rose up in her as she laid in his arms and drew small circles on his chest.

  “Ye’re right,” he murmured. “We do make a good team. Seeing ye stand up to me today, seeing ye speak for the good of the clan…that’s when I quit fighting it, Saf.” His eyes were still closed. “Ye might make a terrible squire, but ye’re a damn fine chess partner.”