Disciplined by the Highlander: A Scottish Historical Romance Novel

by Kendall, Lydia

  “Oh, silly me, yes,” she said and went back to the cupboard, the higher one this time, and took out a thick stump of a candle. “Here.”

  William took the candle and leaned it over to light the wick by the fire and then handed it back to her. Emma jumped a little with a startled, “Ow” then laughed as she peeled the drop of wax off her finger. Her giggle made William’s heart flutter and he stood.

  Taking the candle from her, he set it aside and dropped his hand to her waist. When her breath hitched and her lips slipped open, William took pride; she was expecting him. Sliding a hand under her neck, William kissed her deeply. There was no preamble or tentativeness. His hunger for her was making his length harden and he craved tasting her.

  He wanted to strip her bare, suckle at her breasts, and make her come to completion while screaming his name. God, that night when he had caught her touching herself still seemed unreal. Tasting her sex felt even more dreamlike.

  William’s head dropped to her neck and nibbled at her soft skin. He felt her arms trace down his arms and then switch to his chest. William felt her hands inch down his chest with a tantalizing slowness and he wondered if Emma was being seductive on purpose or just doing it out of nervousness.

  Her finger met the seam of his English pants and she stroked there. William chuckled huskily, “What are ye searching for lass?”

  “Um…” she said shyly. “I…am…I can’t…um… It?”

  William chuckled and took her hand and pressed it right on his bulge. “It might be more than ye can handle noo lass.”

  Emma was red and William had mercy on her. He dipped and took her to the edge of the bed. There, he softly stripped her, taking pleasure in every strip of fabric that left her body and with the last stitch gone, William laid her bare back on the bed. Kicking off his boots and tugging off his shirt, he joined her on the bed and leaned closer to kiss her.

  Her kiss was warm and eager and she shivered under his touch as their tongues twisted and twined. William felt his hunger grow and left her mouth to suckle her breast into his mouth. Her back arched and the sweet cry she released was music to William’s ears. He pulled off and circled her nipple with his tongue before moving to the other creamy breast.

  Emma was panting under him and the guttural sounds coming from her clamped lips spiked his lust into a bonfire. He slapped on the underside of her breast and then went to her ear. “Are ye wet fer me, Emma?”

  She whimpered and William kissed her again. His hand slid over her breast, down her flat stomach and then to the apex of her thighs. Prying her legs open, William kissed her shoulder and then slid a finger over her sex. Soft slickness met his finger and William grinned. With his thumb, he played with her button using her honey as a lubricant while drinking in every gasp. She let out a groan at his torture.

  William yearned to feel her tightness clamp over his length but knew it was too soon. He could not take her but he wanted to feel her and while sucking her breast back into his mouth, he stroked over her entrance, preparing her before slipping one finger inside her.

  Emma gasped deeply and her hand grabbed at his arm. “Relax, Emma…I’m not going to break yer maidenhead, but I can make you come, lass. I want to hear ye scream me name an’ shudder in pleasure. Let me have this pleasure, lass, let me give you this gift.”

  She nodded and even spread her legs further. William kissed her again and stroked deeper. The fire was lit again and the passion burned higher. William used his fingers and thumb to hike up Emma’s passion, taking care to not stroke so deep that he would break her maidenhead but enough to have her gasping and moaning under him.

  A sheen of sweat was on her breasts and belly and her thighs were trembling with the pleasure running through her body. William was hard as a rock but he felt that Emma’s pleasure was more satisfying to him. Her body was tightening up and her teeth were clamped into her bottom lip.

  “Wi-Willi-ah!” Her body convulsed into itself as her pleasure overtook her. A soft rush of her honey coated William’s fingers as her body was a vice grip over them.

  Satisfied, William kissed the rivulets of sweat on her body while he slowly pulled his fingers out. She blinked hazy, fulfilled eyes at him. “William…”

  “Hm?” He said.

  “That was…lovely,” she sighed.

  He smirked in satisfaction.

  “William…the fire…”

  Hell’s teeth!

  Darting up from the bed, William rushed over to the pot—it had a bare inch of water inside. The nearly gallon of water that had been inside was gone! All gone! Instead of getting angry, William felt amused and laughed loudly. This was hilarious to him.

  Removing the pot from the fire and letting its coals smolder in the pit, William went back to Emma who was more than half-asleep. William climbed back in bed and wrapped an arm around her waist and she turned her back to his front.

  “William…” Emma’ voice was thick with sleep, “What does… bòy-dch-heach…?”

  “You mean, bòidheach,” William smiled at her fumbled Gaelic while stroking her smooth skin. He loved the feel of her skin under his hand and touching her was quickly getting addictive. “It means beautiful, Emma…and ye are.”

  “Oh…oh thank you,” she blushed and William found it ironic that she was blushing for something so simple but was completely naked.

  He stayed there watching her fall asleep and his gray eyes closed. William remembered his words that love did not matter and cursed himself. He would be lying if he did not admit that he was falling in love with Emma. Seeing her there on the bed, with her hair a tangle under her, he had a powerful urge to see her in his rightful bed back at the castle of Clan MacNair— as his wife.

  If he did not, there would be no peace for him for the rest of his life. Her strength was admirable, her heart lovely, compassionate and kind, and her will was like iron. It was not about how she fit into his arms like a glove or how soft her skin was or even her reactions to pleasure. It was her beautiful soul.

  But now, how do I keep her safe from the cruel brother…. what if he does kill me…who will protect her then?

  Chapter 19

  Warmth. That was the first sensation that registered in Emma’s mind as she fought back the lingering blankness of sleep—the pure warmth of her pillow….and then her pillow moved.

  Frowning, Emma rubbed her skin on the pillow and felt the soft abrasion of hair tickle her nose. Alarmed, Emma sat up and blushed. Her pillow was William. And she was naked! Her hair was a curtain over her breasts and over William’s chest, scant coverage for a lady who was always trained to be modest.

  The memory of last night, how William had pleasured her with his mouth and hands—how could she have come apart at the seams just by his touch? Shouldn’t she have held her composure and acted like a lady? Where did the screams come from? Where had her refined ways disappeared to?

  “Dinnae overthink it, lass,” William sleepy voice was husky and rumbling as he spoke but he had not opened his eyes. How had he known that she was growing into a panic?

  Pressing her forehead to his chest, Emma sighed, “I’m sorry?”

  He chuckled and this time his eyes opened, treating her to slivers of smoky gray that turned to shimmering silver. “Fer what, lass?”

  “For losing my control,” Emma’s voice was soft and contrite. “It’s unbecoming of a lady.”

  William snorted, “Ye English and yer prestigious pretentious ways. Emma, there’s nothing to be ashamed off by following tha’ natural way God gave us. Desire is a natural as breathing an’ the way ye English stifle it by yer dress an’ mannerisms make it look as if yer drinking from tha’ devil’s potion.”

  She was worrying her lip, “Are ye sure?”

  He squinted at her, and a sly grin tugged his lips, “D’ye want a second performance, Emma?”

  “No, no,” words rushed out as red crawled up her neck before she cleared her throat. “I…last night was enough.”

  “Last night w
as a taste, lass,” William corrected softly, while his hand twirled a wayward curl. “There is much more to come…when yer me wife.”

  There, he had said it and the words sunk deeply into Emma’s soul. He had said those words— words of commitment. Words that gave her a tentative promise that harkened to the pledge of safety and comfort William had promised her that night just outside of the MacNair’s library.

  His rough hand cupped her cheek and brought her down for a soft kiss before he broke it. “Let me get water fer oor missed tea, aye.”

  Emma shifted on the bed and let him up while she searched for her clothes. She blushed when William reached for his breeches and tugged them on. Thankfully, his back had been turned to her so he did not see her flaming face. His muscled back with dimples at the base of his spine, taut buttocks, and strong thighs made heat rise up her body.

  William seemed to know and shot a coy look over his shoulder and the smile grew to a smirk. “And a bath fer ye, aye, while I go rustle up some breakfast.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Emma replied, barely keeping her voice from trembling.

  It was merciful that he had tugged on his shirt and left the room as Emma’s whole body felt light. She knew who William was. She knew his kindness and the sense to see justice prevail. She could see the protector in him, a man who cared and took it upon himself to right the wrongs of the world even though he was one man. She saw…the man she was in love with. A man that had somehow pledged to marry her. She felt so light that she could have stayed on the bed and daydreamed but her sense took over her fancy and she got dressed.

  Her hair was a mess and the best she could do was to finger comb the tangles. Plaiting the somewhat combed hair into one braid, Emma went to seek out the tin of tea, the one filled with sugar cubes, and the coffee. If William was going hunting or rummaging, he would have to have something warm in his stomach.

  She did not know how well she could become a homemaker but she was going to try her best. If William was willing to teach her about being a Scottish wife, she was willing to learn. And if her brother was set on selling her off to the Frenchman, she would willingly revoke her residency in England.

  She, like any other woman in England, had heard the stories of elopers who ran to Gretna Green to get married. Even if she had considered it, she would not go where she could be seen and have a report sent back to Thomas. Besides, she wanted to get married when there was some peace.

  I do not want fear to be hanging over my head when I wed.

  Gravitating to the window, Emma looked out at the vista with opened eyes. The trees nearby were vibrant with their shades of multi-hued green, but she could still spot the occasional brown or orange of a dying leaf. She heard the twitter of a bird’s song and breathed in the fresh air of the forestland.

  Can this be my life? she wondered. Can I give up all the hustle and bustle of London to live in this countryside? Well, not here, really, but in Scotland?

  Her thoughts meandered between wondering and worry even when William came back with a new pan of water and a few fruits. Emma hid her concern and turned to him with a smile. “If you are sure about us cooking together, teach me how you take your coffee.”

  “Aye,” William grinned. “Let’s start with heating the water, eh?”

  Emma lingered over William’s shoulder, noting and memorizing how he made the fire, how he measured out the coffee and how much sugar—one cube—he dropped into the cup. Emma made her tea and dropped three cubes inside, in lieu of milk, and taking it weak, drank it down in delight. Once or twice her eyes met his over his tin cup and she felt warmth run through her whenever his eyes twinkled at her over the rim.

  With handfuls of plump gooseberries, rich plummy blackberries, and vibrant cherries, Emma had a sweet breakfast and nibbled on, while William rolled his eyes. Feeling mischievous, Emma handed him a berry and instead of taking it from her by hand, he leaned forward and plucked it out of her hand with his mouth.

  His lips brushed her fingertips and she shivered at the heat in his eyes. When he did chew, his face twisted to a grimace and Emma giggled.

  “That’s it, I’m seeking some rabbits fer us this day,” William groaned, as he put down his cup. “Fruits do not satiate a body like meat does.”

  Hazel eyes traced over his arm, lightly dusted with dark hair, and his large hands with his long fingers, and she remembered the pleasure those hands had given her last night. What else could this man show her? What more pleasure could she feel? What heights could he lift her up to?

  Dragging her eyes away, Emma ran a hand over her hair, “Er, what are you hunting with?”

  “A knife an’ me patience,” William said, while spinning the empty cup on the table. “If time gives me it's blessing, I’ll be able to seek out the burrow and make some traps.”

  The mention of time sobered Emma a little. “About Goraidh, do we have to wait here until he gets back?”

  “Aye.”

  With her eyes down she asked, “And do you think that he’ll take long?”

  “As long as it can take to get the evidence to prove who committed the crime,” William added, before scrubbing his hand over his jaw. “Until we ken who did exactly what, we’ll have to stay here. I dinnae trust anyone noo, not even me clansmen. I ken it will be a bit mind-numbing with nothing to do for a long stretch of time but it will…it must work out if we want to be safe from yer brother’s hatred.”

  Emma nodded, “I’ll…if we’re together, I hope it’ll not be that tedious.”

  William’s gray eyes darted to the window and he levered himself up. “I’d best be going oot, lass. I want something substantial in oor bellies tonight.”

  Standing, Emma kissed him on the cheek, “I’ll be waiting here.”

  * * *

  That evening was the first time Emma saw raw, freshly killed meat and she had to swallow her repulsion at the blood and mottled fur. Thankfully, the hunter had drained most of the blood from the hare but what was left still bothered her. When William had shown her how to skin it, Emma had actively swallowed down the bile that had raced up her throat while watching him.

  She sat patiently, following William’s instructions on how to season the meat, and how to let the spices marinate the meat before stewing it down with wild carrots and tubers William had dug out of the ground. The meal had tasted great but William mentioned that there was room for improvement when they had better seasoning.

  Before he went out again to seek more food, William had, by patience and multiple trips from spring and one large bucket heated by the fire, filled the bathtub for her so she could take a lukewarm bath. The sliver of olive-oil soap she found was mild enough to not abrade her skin as she bathed. She was dried, dressed, and curled up on the bed by the time William came back with more berries and another bucket of water after dark.

  From the flickering candlelight, Emma saw lines of exhaustion ingrained in his face. After he had set the water down, he tugged off his shirt and pants to bare his body to his smallclothes. The water in the tub was still there and he tugged off the last stitch of his clothes. Emma had barely opened her mouth to protest that he deserved warmed water when he sunk into the tub.

  Getting off the bed, Emma took the damp washcloth and went to the tub. She rubbed the shoulder nearest to her. William’s head lolled to the side and his words rumbled from the bottom of his chest.

  “I hiked through a lot of tha’ forest today, slid down a few slopes, but found me a rabbit warren so we’re nae gonna be out of meat for a while.”

  Emma ran the rag over his shoulder and down his chest, while admiring the candlelight playing over William’s skin, rendering the long golden planes of skin a dull bronze. “Thank you for going to all that trouble for me.”

  “Eh,” William sighed, “I am infuriating yer asshat of a brother so I’m happy.”

  Emma had cleaned his shoulders, chest, and back and tried to dredge up the courage to wash him further but could not bear doing so. Just thinking of
it made her heart pump irregularly. Only once had she seen his manhood but it still felt too early to get this intimate with him by washing him down there. Perhaps with time and much more familiarity she could sanction doing so.

  “I’m going to get the towel,” she said softly.

  William craned his head back and smiled knowingly. Taking the washcloth from her, he kissed the back of her hand. Relieved, Emma went to get the now dried towel while studiously keeping her back towards him.

  Fiddling with it, she heard the whoosh of the water as he stood up and heard the light thuds of his feet as he stepped out. Once again, her heart was in her ears. Emma could feel his presence behind her, waiting patiently for her to turn around. She took in a deep silent breath and turned with the towel open in her hands.