Stolen By The Scottish Rogue: Kilts & Kisses, Book 2

by Faye, Madison

  “Do tell us more about ‘Cat’,” Malcolm says with a devilish grin at his friend.

  But Callum shuts it down with a shake of his head and a scowl.

  “We have problems, Malcolm.”

  The humor leaves the room as my husband stiffens.

  “Tell me.”

  “Lord Carlson’s men are currently in boats rowing across the channel from the mainland for Carrick Castle, with battle flags flying.”

  Malcolm growls lowly, moving next to me and wrapping an arm possessively around me. “Well, give the man his goddamn boat back.”

  Callum smirks. “I think we both know that’s not what he’s after.”

  “Well then he can go get fucked, because ‘his’ one-time-betrothed is now my bride.” My husband’s arms tighten around me, and his jaw ripples. “And besides that, attacking Carrick Castle is suicide. We’re too well defended, and Carlson doesn’t have the men to—”

  “He’s hired mercy forces, Mal,” Callum says coldly, sending a chill through me. Malcolm’s face darkens.

  “Impossible. It’s barely been two days.”

  Callum scowls. “Impossible or not, they’re in the boats with his men, tripling the size of his forces, and they’ll be landing on your shores any minute now.”

  Malcolm doesn’t swear, or yell, or go off. He just takes a breath, his face hardening.

  “Ready my men and—”

  “Already done. Hamish is marshaling your defenses along with your captain of the guard. But we should really get the both of you away from—”

  “I’m not leaving my castle, Callum,” I growl.

  He nods, smiling darkly. “I thought you might say that. But Ailith should—”

  “Neither am I,” I spit.

  Malcolm turns, his eyes blazing into mine. “Ailith—”

  “I’m not,” I hiss. “And if you think for a second you can send me away from you during something like this, you are sorely mistaken.”

  The room goes quiet, and slowly, I watch Malcolm’s face pull into a grin. He pulls me close, leaning down to kiss me softly.

  “That’s my queen.”

  I bite my lip, looking into his eyes. “Indeed I am.”

  Callum clears his throat.

  “I’d get dressed, my friend. And while you’re at it, pray for a damn miracle.” He growls, stroking his chin. “We’re going to need—”

  “My Lord McAuley! Lord Bruce!”

  One of Malcolm’s men comes charging breathlessly into the room. His eyes are wild—that is, until he spots me. At which point, his face goes red as his eyes widen.

  Malcolm’s low, fierce growl, however, has him jumping and tearing his eyes away as his face pales.

  “Mind where you look,” my husband hisses dangerously. “What is it?”

  The poor man swallows thickly, his eyes wide as he takes a shaky breath.

  “Ships, my lord!”

  “Yes, I know. Lord Carl—”

  “Not his.” The man grows even paler as his eyes dart between Malcolm and Callum.

  “Viking ships, my lord.”

  Oh God…

  “What?” Malcolm growls.

  “Marauders, my lord. Crimson sails.”

  Malcolm swears, looking away.

  “Tor Odinson,” Callum hisses.

  “Ready the men,” Malcolm growls at the guard, his jaw clenched. The man nods, whirling and running back down the corridor as my husband turns back to his friend.

  “So much for that miracle,” he grunts. Callum nods, but he’s already whirling and dashing away.

  Malcolm’s eyes dart to me. “Ailith—”

  “I’m not leaving you,” I say, my voice tight as my hand finds his and squeezes.

  He smiles wryly. “My headstrong bride.” He sighs. “Fine. But I do need you to do one thing.”

  I raise a brow, and his eyes burn into mine.

  “Put some clothes on.”

  Chapter 12

  Malcolm

  This is not good. Carlson’s forces I could hold off for years if I had to. Him hiring mercenary forces is unexpected, and certainly shortens that timeline. But it’s not a death stroke. There’d be time to send for allies, or for Hamish or Callum to call in their own forces.

  …But Tor Odinson’s fleet changes everything. And if it’s bloody Vikings and Carlson, I’m not sure what chance we have to even last the night.

  I turn and level my gaze at Callum.

  “We’ve had worse odds, haven’t we?”

  Callum’s face hardens, his eyes fierce. And he’s about to open his mouth, when suddenly, there’s a sound like thunder outside, followed by a roar and a giant flash of light. All three of us glance at each other before we’re running for the terrace. My pulse races as we tumble out, Ailith’s hand in mine, and I freeze at the scene in front of me.

  Gods…

  The ocean is on fire—roaring flames burning across the surface, lighting up the night sky with red and oranges. There’s the sound of men screaming and yelling, and it takes me a second to realize what I’m looking at before suddenly, it clicks.

  The boats closest to the shore of Falmer Island are those of Lord Carlson—I can recognize the crest on the sails. Beyond them though are the sleek red-sailed warships of the Viking Tor Odinson, and my jaw tightens at the sight. Vikings and the mercenary army of the man whose bride I stole.

  …This is not good.

  I frown, my battle-trained eyes taking in the scene. And suddenly, I pause.

  “Callum—”

  “Aye, I see it too.”

  Ailith frowns as she turns to me. “What aren’t I seeing?”

  For a second, I almost don’t want to believe it, because it doesn’t make any sense. But there it is, happening right in front of our eyes.

  Out on the water, close to shore, are both Carlson’s ships and those of my own forces. Beyond them, Tor’s massive fleet of marauder ships are bearing down hard on the lot of them. Except, in any scenario you could imagine, Tor would be laying waste to everything in sight—my forces and Carlson’s.

  …That’s not what’s happening though.

  There’s another sound of thunder as the cannon mounted to one of Tor’s ships blasts a ball of flaming pitch across the bay, and I watch as it goes slamming into one of Carlson’s boats, eating it ablaze.

  “Malcolm, what—”

  “He’s only attacking Carlson,” I say, almost not believing it. But again, there it is, right in front of us. Tor isn’t laying waste to the whole damn bay full of ships. The bloodthirsty marauder is specifically targeting Carlson and ignoring my own ships.

  “What the bloody hell is going on,” Callum growls, his hand tight on the hilt of his sword.

  “Not a damn clue,” I mutter, my arm tightening around Ailith. “But I think we got our miracle.”

  Suddenly, Ailith stiffens, gasping sharply.

  “Malcolm!”

  My eyes follow her pointing finger, and I stiffen.

  Seven hells.

  Tor’s ships are attacking Carlson alright. All of them, that is, except one—except Tor’s very own ship, with the extra red sail and the black Valkyrie painted across the bow.

  And that ship?

  …That one’s moored off in the shadows to the side of my castle, where no one’s paying attention. And there on the shore, barely visible, is a landing skiff.

  “Oh hell—”

  “Tor,” I say thinly, my voice like ice as I glance at Callum.

  “He’s already inside the—”

  “Malcolm.”

  Callum nods, and when I whirl back, my eyes narrow at the shape moving silently out of the shadows by the western wall of the castle, right where I know there’s a hidden escape door into the cellars of Carrick Castle. The large shape strides with purpose, alone, back to the small skiff, and I watch as the man begins to shove the craft back into the waves.

  “That’s Tor.”

  The words are cold as they leave my lips, and my eyes n
arrow. Next to me, I can feel Ailith shudder, clutching close to me, and even Callum draws a breath. But there’s no denying it—the hulking, huge size of the man, the broad shoulders with the fur-lined cloak. The massive war helmet with the twin curved horns.

  Forget why his ships seem to be defending my island. The real question is, what in the devil is Tor Odinson doing sneaking out of my castle, alone.

  The three of us watch silently as the massive Viking rows his skiff back out to his longboat. The sails tighten, oars are shoved into the water, and the big warship begins to sweep out of the side-bay to join the main battle.

  …The main battle which is basically over.

  Carlson’s remaining ships are waving white flags, and as Tor’s ship slices through the flaming waves and out into the bay, the rest of his marauders seem to follow. And we watch as the crimson red sails sail off out into the darkness of the sea.

  “The hell was he—”

  “I don’t know and right now, I don’t care,” I growl, pulling Ailith close and leaning down to kiss her head.

  Callum nods, raking his fingers over his squared jaw.

  “I’ll find your captain and make sure the castle is secured. Your ships can clean up the rest of Carlson’s forces.”

  I nod, taking a breath before I clap Callum on the back.

  “Thank you, my friend.”

  * * *

  Eventually, I’m dressed and down with my men, securing our walls, and helping to round up Carlson’s men who survived the Viking attack. Lord Carlson himself is apparently back on the mainland like a true coward, but I make a point of sending ravens out to every lord of the highlands I can even remotely call ally. I don’t play down the fact that I’ve take Ailith as my bride. But then, she was never his, and they were never married.

  The short of it is, if Carlson decides to continue his attacks on me and mine, he’ll be more outnumbered than he knows what to do with. That and the fact that most of the men I know fought and lost brothers in the Crusades fighting against armies of paid mercenaries and have little regard for a man who pays others to fight his battles means I don’t think I’ll be hearing anything but a humble apology from the man.

  After all of that though, hours later, I’m back with my Ailith.

  It may very well be the middle of the damn night, or somewhere in the early morning, but we’re both up and awake. I kiss her slowly, scooping her into my arms out on the terrace overlooking my castle and the bay—moonlight and the last remnants of the flaming hulks of Carlson’s boats out on the water sending flickering light across her skin.

  “Not the wedding night I was planning for,” I growl lowly, kissing her bottom lip and running my tongue across it as I cup her face.

  Ailith grins, her green eyes sparkling as she looks up at me.

  “No? And here I was so impressed at the lengths you’d gone to for a memorable evening.”

  I chuckle, pulling her close as I kiss her slow and deep.

  “Your friends were okay?”

  Carlson’s forced barely made it to shore, let alone breaching my walls. And the Vikings never landed at all. Still, the shadowy figure who I’m sure was Tor himself leaving my castle under darkness, alone, still has my senses tingling.

  Ailith nods. “They are. Una was with Hamish of course, and Cat…” She frowns, shaking her head. “Well, Cat said she had ‘plenty of protection,’ when I saw her, but she was vague. Your guards, I assume?” She shrugs.

  “And Rhona?”

  Ailith has previously mentioned how shaken her auburn-haired friend was after Tor’s attack on Hamish’s castle at his and Una’s wedding. Having Vikings show up again couldn’t have been good for her.

  Ailith smiles, stroking my arm. “You know for a big tough warrior lord, you’re a very good listener.”

  “What?”

  She giggles as I grin, slapping my arm.

  “Rhona is good. She…” Ailith frowns a puzzled look, opening her mouth to say something before she closes it.

  “What is it?”

  “She just…” Ailith shakes her head. “It’s nothing, I’m sure.” She smiles, looking up at me. “And Lord Carlson?”

  “It’s over, and he’ll be dealt with. Lord Carlson has fewer friends than he thinks he does, and I have far more than he thought. Should he try and come after you or this island again, he’ll find himself in a struggle he will most certainly lose, and badly.”

  I pull her close, letting my lips brush hers.

  “That’s all over with, my love.”

  “I’m all yours, am I?”

  “Damn right you are,” I growl, crushing my lips to hers and groaning at the whimper that teases into my mouth.

  She’s wrapped in a large blanket, but as I kiss her slowly, I tug it free from her hands. It drops to her feet, and I groan at the sight of her—wrapped only in a gauzy white sleep gown. It’s so thin that it’s basically sheer, and with the moonlight and the fires behind her, her figure is fully visible to me through it.

  I growl, my cock thickening as I crush my mouth back to hers, kissing her hungrily. Ailith moans, her small hands sliding over me and eagerly working at the binds to my own clothing. She shoves my tunic up my body, her delicate fingers tracing over my muscled torso. I break away from her lips just long enough to pull the tunic over my head and toss it away before I pull her tight to my mouth again.

  Her hands move to my kilt, her breaths panting into my lips as she pulls the belt open letting the kilt drop to the ground at my feet. My thick cock springs into her hands, and she whimpers as she wraps her small fingers around it.

  “Gods, Ailith,” I growl, hissing in pleasure as her little hands slide delicately up and down my shaft.

  My mouth drops to her neck, bringing a gasp to her lips as I bite down on the tender skin there. My hands roam her body, teasing over her hips and sliding up to cup her full breasts. I slide one hand to the dainty straps to her sleep gown, grazing her shoulder before I slip my finger under the strap and tug it down off the shoulder. Ailith shivers as I do the same to the other, her hand still stroking me as I peel her translucent gown down over her pert breasts.

  My mouth drops to her dusky pink nipples in an instant, and she cries out, her hands gripping me tighter as my tongue swirls over her aching pink peaks. My hands roam down her body, pulling her gown up as I slide a hand over her firm, tight little ass.

  My cock swells, precum dripping from the swollen crown all over her fingers.

  My hand delves down low over her ass, pushing between her thighs from behind. Ailith moans wildly, pushing back against my hand, and when my fingers find her dripping wet and slick for me, I groan in pleasure.

  She gasps as I spin her yanking her against my hard, naked body as my mouth drops to her neck. My hands slide over her small body, cupping her breast and pushing between her pretty thighs to stroke her sweet little cunt. I pull us back until I sink back into one of the large chairs I have set up on the terrace. With how high we are over the castle grounds, no one can see us up here. It’s just her and I, with the moon and stars above, and the flickering fires burning to embers out on the bay.

  Ailith’s legs go astride mine, her back against my chest and her moans echoing in my ears. My hands push down between us, one stroking her slick cunt and teasing her swollen clit, the other grabbing my thick cock and stroking it. She turns her head, and when our lips crush together, it’s like the heavens above light on fire.

  “Take me,” she whispers quietly, and I groan as I kiss her even harder. I raise her up, her body sliding over mine as I center my thick head against her soft, slick opening. She moans as she sinks down, a gasp catching at her lips as she slowly takes every damn inch of me. I groan into her lips, kissing her fiercely as her hungry little cunt swallows up my cock.

  She cries out, pulling away from my lips to moan her pleasure into the moonlit sky. I hiss, my body tensing as she settles down to the base of me. I can feel her pussy rippling and clenching at my thickness, milking
my cock eagerly as I growl into her skin. My hand slides between her legs, my fingers lazily rolling her clit in slow circles. The other moves up her body, pulling the gauzy white sleep gown away from her and cupping her breast.

  Ailith slides up, gasping deeply as her cunt grips my cock, clinging tightly to me as she rises up until just the head is inside of her. I grunt, pulling her as I thrust my hips at the same time, and when my cock plunges deep inside of her, she cries out in pleasure.

  “Ride me, little princess,” I groan into her skin, my balls drawing up as she starts to slide up and down in deep, full strokes.

  “Ride my cock until I’m coated in your honey. Take my cock, Ailith. Feel me so deep inside against your womb.”

  She moans, her hips rolling and her body rubbing against my chest as we begin to move together. Her tight little ass bounces in my lap, her nipples hardening to points in my fingers and her pussy dripping all over my cock until her honey coats my heavy balls and muscled thighs.

  We move together like one, grinding and thrusting—her cries of pleasure filling my ears as I grunt into her skin, rutting into her like a beast. Lust clouds my vision, and I grip her tight as I thrust up into her—claiming her, taking her, making every single inch of her mine and mine alone.

  I’m aware of her suddenly clenching above me, her moans tumbling from her lips as she comes for me. Her slickness floods my cock, and I groan and just keep fucking her, like I’m a man possessed. She sinks into me, panting and crying out again and again as I keep her there, falling off the ledge of her climax.

  Ailith comes again, and again, and she twists her head to crush her lips to mine, hungrily tasting my mouth as I plunge into her.

  “Come for me, my lord,” she whimpers into my lips. “Take me and make me yours.”

  I groan, my swollen balls drawing up as I feel my control start to falter.

  “Ailith…”

  “Please,” she begs, moaning as she writhes above me, kissing me hungrily.

  Her pussy clenches me tight, rippling up and down every inch of me, and as I feel her come again, it’s the last I can take. I roar as I thrust as deep as I can into her tight, velvety heaven and let go. My balls pulse, my cock throbs so deep in her, and when I come, it’s a dam giving way.