Raising Hell in the Highlands: A Time Travel Romance (A Timeless Love Book 2)

by Abbie Zanders

  Wow. As if his words weren’t enough to steal her breath, the sensual way he spoke them created a veritable vacuum in her chest.

  “You seem to be doing just fine,” she said bravely, but she wondered. Her instincts were telling her that Lachlan was leashing himself. And that thought was exciting. He didn’t seem like the type of man who often warred with self-control.

  He grinned at that, a smile so sexually charged that she actually felt herself grow wet, neither confirming nor denying the statement. She swallowed and clenched the object in her hand all that much more tightly.

  “What have ye there?” he asked, his gaze drawn to the whitening knuckles of her fist. His eyes narrowed, no doubt wondering if she held one of her weapons.

  “Nothing.”

  * * *

  Her response was too quick, too... false. Lachlan’s nostrils flared as he clearly sensed the lie. He was correct in his initial assessment; the woman was basically honest, even the tiniest lie to pass her lips as obvious as the pretty crimson flush now rising beneath her jawline.

  Something about the wee female lit a fire in his blood and had every last nerve tingling. She might think she had a choice in the matter, but she didn’t, not until he had some answers.

  And until he had the chance to map out and taste every last delectable curve revealed by those garments.

  His big hand came over hers, while his other pried at her fingers. Fierce she might be, but she was no match for his superior strength.

  He extracted the smooth, silvery object and looked at it warily. Oblong, much smaller than a hen’s egg, it reflected the morning sunlight. He turned it this way and that, examining it with curiosity, startled when it vibrated to life in his hand.

  His eyes widened as he closed his hand around it. “Is it a weapon?”

  The crimson flush turned brilliant and extended up into her cheeks. “Um, no.”

  “Ye will tell me what this is.” A demand.

  “It’s, um...” Aislinn looked everywhere except at him – the walls, the ceiling, the fireplace - “... a device a woman uses to give herself pleasure.”

  The temperature in the room shot up at least ten degrees. Most of it was due to the heat now radiating from his body, as the fire in his blood exploded into a raging inferno. He glared at her for several long moments, trying to gain purchase over the flames before they destroyed him and everything else around him.

  When he spoke again, his voice was little more than a growl. “Ye will show me.”

  “I don’t think so.” Aislinn licked her lips nervously, yet he saw the desire there, too. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining with arousal. He flicked his eyes downward, feeling a flare of triumph when he saw the hard tips of her breasts straining against the cloth.

  “I am no’ askin’, lass.” He thrust his hand out, opening his fingers. “Ye will do this for me.”

  * * *

  Hands shaking, she took the device from his palm. It retained the heat of his hand, a fact that had her tightening her legs together. Was she actually considering this? Could she really do this?

  There was some part of her that was thrilled by the idea of using the toy to alleviate some of the heavy need that she was feeling in his presence. To have him watch her while she did.

  So why was she hesitating? This was her dream, damn it! For some reason she seemed to keep forgetting that. If she wanted to turn it into a naughty, erotic fantasy, she would.

  “Alright,” she said, lifting her chin. “But you need to do something for me, too.”

  His eyes glittered dangerously. “What?”

  She rose, her body a few scant inches from his. She slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her breeches and pushed them down to her hips. “I can show you how it works better if I have some incentive. Take your pants off, Lachlan, and let me watch you, too.” Aislinn was shocked and aroused by the boldness of her own words.

  Lachlan stopped breathing for several seconds. She was sure he was going to refuse, but then his nostrils flared and his eyes grew dark, hungry. “Ye first.”

  She grinned wickedly and slipped the pants down to her ankles. Then she turned and leaned on the bed, giving him a very clear view of her backside and her tiny black thong.

  “Sweet Jesu,” he whispered, sucking in a breath. She stepped out of her pants and sat on the bed, pushing herself back. Knees up and pressed together, she hid her secrets for a little while longer, looking up at Lachlan expectantly with challenging fire in her green-brown eyes.

  “Your turn.”

  Aislinn had never felt such scorching heat from a man’s gaze before, but it was as if he was stroking her with his hands. Slowly, eyes luminous, he stepped out of his boots and kicked them aside. When he lowered his pants, it was Aislinn’s turn to gasp. Lachlan’s manhood jutted out fiercely proud, intensely aroused. She had to consciously stop herself from whimpering aloud at the sheer size and thickness of it. She had glimpsed it before when she’d peeked under his kilt, but he hadn’t been aroused then.

  “Wow,” she breathed. “I mean, wow.” That part was every bit as large as the rest of him. Incredibly long and thick, a shiver of terror and delight ran up and down the length of her spine.

  Aislinn leaned back on one elbow, opening her knees and running the little silvery object along the tiny strip of fabric that hid the most private part of her.

  “Stroke yourself,” she urged, wondering when she had been possessed by the spirit of a porn star. “Stroke yourself as you watch me.”

  In front of her, Lachlan gripped himself. His long, thick fingers wrapped around the base of his shaft with a familiarity that had the wetness seeping from her core.

  “That’s it,” she purred, pulling the fabric to one side, exposing the shiny white gold ring there. He licked his lips, as if wanting desperately to run his tongue along it, to pull it lightly between his teeth. At least that’s what she pictured him doing in her mind.

  “Lovely,” he growled.

  Aislinn was so filled with need that it only took a few moments to lose herself. But instead of closing her eyes and creating scenes in her mind as she normally would have, she kept them open. Watching Lachlan watch her, seeing him stroke himself with the same rhythm she used on herself – it was beyond erotic. Soon her hips were rocking, curling up to capture that elusive prize dancing just beyond her reach.

  Her breathy pants filled the air around them as the pressure mounted. And mounted. Though physically they were not touching, she felt connected to him on a level far deeper than she had anticipated. Holding his gaze, hearing the barely audible hum of her toy and the soft slap of his palm, she climbed higher and higher until finally, she broke.

  Aislinn was not a screamer. When she came, it was with the softest of cries, but it was the most powerful climax she had ever experienced. Her legs clamped together, reflexively trying to stem the intensity, even as her body seized in the grips of her pleasure.

  Within seconds, Lachlan followed, coating her with his spend from thigh to belly. Eyes still closed in rapture, Aislinn felt the bed dip to one side as he dropped down beside her.

  Though he was next to her, they remained physically apart. He made no attempt at post-coital cuddling or spooning, which made sense, since technically, they hadn’t really had sex. Aislinn wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved.

  He was silent for a long time. Aislinn opened her eyes and chanced a look his way. His forearm rested across his eyes; Aislinn had no idea what he was thinking. Wasn’t even sure what she was thinking, other than the fact that it was the most intimate thing she’d ever experienced.

  After the explosive orgasm, Aislinn was feeling less the seductress and more the – well, she really didn’t even know how to categorize what she was feeling. Shock at her own actions, definitely. Perhaps a bit of shame, but strangely enough, no regret.

  She rose up and gathered a cloth left over from her bath. When she was finished cleaning herself, she rinsed the cloth and padded over to
do the same for him.

  Lachlan’s hand closed around her wrist as he sat up. The look in his eyes was unreadable as he allowed her to clean him, but his expression was clear enough. He looked every bit as confused as she felt.

  “I’ve never done that before,” she said quietly, trying to be extra gentle with him.

  It was an admission she did not make easily. For as bold as she was, her real-life experience with men was limited. Very few people actually knew that, preferring to judge her particular book by her pierced, badass cover. But had they bothered to look deeper, they would have learned that Aislinn had never found anyone she had wanted to share that kind of intimacy with.

  She knew the basics, as well as about a thousand variations. She’d heard about them, read about them, even watched a few videos. Enough to talk the talk and feed the image. But the truth was, she’d never brought herself to climax in front of a man before. Never actually held a man in her hand or felt the steel of a man’s erection, sheathed in something that felt like a perfect blend of silk and velvet. Even now, semi-erect, he spilled over her palm.

  He searched her eyes, as if they held the answers he sought.

  “I mean, I’ve done that, but never with anyone watching.” For some reason, she didn’t think he made a habit out of doing that kind of thing either. She felt his embarrassment. In a strange way, it made her feel a little better about her own.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He cupped her chin with his hand and forced her to look at him. “Are ye?”

  “Not about this,” she said truthfully on an exhale. “That was... unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Better than I ever could have imagined really.” When she felt the color begin to rise in her cheeks at that raw admission – Aislinn did not blush – she hastily continued, “I was talking about this morning. I guess women don’t normally wear pants around here, huh?”

  Lachlan’s expression changed at the reminder. Impassivity was replaced with hunger, which was followed quickly by a slight scowl. Aislinn was fascinated by the transformation. For as stoic as he tried to be, his emotions were always right there in his face, if one was looking close enough.

  “Nay,” he agreed. “They doona.” He inhaled and exhaled heavily, running his hand along the back of his neck. “It would make life a lot easier for me, lass, if ye refrained from doing so, at least in front of the men. Ye have free reign in the keep, but mayhap it would be best te steer clear of the areas where they are gathered.”

  Aislinn considered the big, beautiful man before her, the one with whom she had just shared the most intimate moment of her life thus far. He was turning out to be nothing like she had expected. It should have been difficult to reconcile this humbler side of him with the arrogant, powerful laird, but it wasn’t. It was all him, and he didn’t insult her by trying to pretend otherwise.

  If Lachlan had demanded that she not wear boy’s clothing, she would have told him to stick it where the sun didn’t shine. But he didn’t. He didn’t even ask her not to, really, just not to flaunt it.

  And that made all the difference in the world.

  Chapter 6

  Would she respect his wishes? Lachlan wondered the next morning. The Great Hall seemed fuller as men, lads, and even quite a few women lingered over their trenchers longer than usual. Many a curious gaze was trained on the entrance from the far side of the large chamber, the one that led to the private quarters. Those that had the good manners not to stare openly lifted their eyes often to ensure that they would not miss anything.

  No doubt word of Aislinn’s unconventional entrance yestermorn had piqued their collective interest. Lachlan grunted. He couldn’t blame them. No one was more interested than he.

  And why shouldn’t he be? The woman was a vexing conundrum, appearing out of nowhere, with the mouth and fighting skills of a man but the body and beauty of an angel. Clear-headed and intelligent one moment, spewing nonsense the next. At first glance, she was ferocity personified, but he had witnessed something else, too – flashes of a vulnerability that had his innate male instinct to protect rushing to the surface.

  Along with a few other, wholly male instincts.

  She was stubborn, too. Despite her English manner of speaking, she had the spirit of a Highlander. The way she lifted that wee chin, pure defiance in her hypnotic eyes - it did something to him, something he could not easily explain.

  Lachlan sighed. Even his brothers could not keep their eyes on their trenchers. What the devil had the lass been thinking, donning lad’s clothing like that? What if other females suddenly decided they wanted to try it as well? No one would be able to think past the compulsion to rut otherwise, and they were a randy enough bunch as it was. Then again, most females would probably not look as enticing in boy’s breeches as Aislinn did.

  Most of those in his keep were related to him somehow – brothers, cousins, nephews. He didn’t want to have to kill them. Yet the urge to do so had been surprisingly strong when he thought of the way they had looked at Aislinn. He wouldn’t allow himself to think about the reasoning behind that, either.

  “Finished.” Gavin thrust a sheet before him, breaking him from his disturbing thoughts.

  Gavin’s rendering of Aislinn threatened to take his breath away. Even on parchment, she was a beautiful creature, and Gavin’s God-given talent was even more apparent with such a stunning subject.

  “She is a fine-looking lass, te be sure,” Malcolm breathed over his shoulder. “Have ye been able te learn anything more about her?”

  “Nay,” Lachlan said, shaking his head. “She keeps her secrets, that one.”

  “Mayhap ye were no’ persuasive enough,” Malcolm suggested with an all-too familiar gleam in his eye.

  Images of Aislinn naked from the waist down, pleasuring herself while he watched, assaulted him. Of the look on her face when she reached her peak. The thought of anyone else bearing witness to such rapture made the murderous urges surge in his blood again with frightening intensity.

  “Ye will no’ seduce her,” Lachlan commanded, pinning Malcolm with a glare devoid of amusement, one that left no room for misinterpretation. “I forbid it.”

  Malcolm narrowed his eyes, but nodded. Lachlan was his brother, but he was also his laird.

  “If there is anyone who can get the lass te share, ‘tis Malcolm,” Simon suggested. “Mayhap an escorted tour of the keep will loosen the lass’s tongue.” The quietest among them, Simon rarely said anything unless he felt it absolutely necessary to do so. For that reason, Lachlan tended to listen whenever he did. He did not particularly like the idea of sending Malcolm to Aislinn, but there was no denying that the libidinous bastard did possess an innate charm that softened a lass’s natural defenses.

  “Alright,” Lachlan reluctantly agreed. There were a few things he had to see to anyway, and he preferred that Aislinn be kept under a watchful eye. And he did trust Malcolm. Randy as the man was, he would not seduce Aislinn if he said he would not. The bigger concern was the possibility of Aislinn falling victim to Malcolm’s charms. Then again, beyond a cursory glance, Aislinn hadn’t shown the slightest interest in anyone – besides him. A glimmer of hope sparked in his chest.

  “Malcolm, give our guest a tour of the keep. Mayhap she will be more of a mind te trust us if we share a bit ourselves, aye? Gavin, take the likeness with ye and see if anyone kens who she is, but be discreet until we ken what we are dealing with. Simon and Conall, go with him.”

  They nodded their acknowledgement, careful to avert their eyes lest the laird see the triumph that glistened there.

  * * *

  As Gavin rode off toward the nearest village with Simon and Conall to make and send a few inquiries, Lachlan, Bowen and Aengus revisited the location of the ambush.

  “Is this from whence she emerged?” Bowen asked, pointing to a section of trees at the southern end of the small clearing.

  “Must have,” Lachlan mused, trying to recall his exact positioning before Aislinn’s sudden and unexpected
appearance. “I was facing this way,” he pointed north, “battling McCraes from the front and both sides. I would have seen her if she had been elsewhere.”

  The men spread out and made their way toward the woods. “What exactly are we looking for?” asked Aengus.

  “Anything that might give us a clue as te how she came te be in our midst,” Bowen answered. “She says she doesnae ken, that she just opened her eyes and here she was.”

  Aengus’s eyes flicked around the immediate area. “Do ye think she was cudgeled and dumped here against her will?”

  “Weel, it would make sense, would it no’? She did have that nasty bump, and it would explain how she came te be here without her knowledge.”

  “Aye, and it may have addled her brains enough te have her thinking ‘tis naught all but a dream,” Bowen reasoned.

  “But it does no’ explain the strange garb, nor the curious blades she carries and uses with such skill.”

  Or tiny little silver objects that make her come, Lachlan thought to himself as he listened to his brothers thinking out loud.

  “Who kens what they do up north?” Bowen muttered. “’Twould no’ be the first strange tale ye’ve heard of those clans.”

  It was easy enough to see where Aislinn had lain. The wild grass was still somewhat depressed, a few dark stains still visible from the wound to her head, but otherwise, there was no evidence of any other presence; no footprints, broken foliage, or telltale signs of a horse. Circling outward, they found nothing to indicate the direction from whence she came nor the method of her arrival.

  “Bugger,” muttered Lachlan.

  “There is another possibility,” said Bowen slowly.

  “Aye? And what might that be?”

  “That the lass is spinning tales for some nefarious purpose.”

  Lachlan was already shaking his head before the last syllable left Bowen’s mouth, but Bowen pressed on. “Think upon it, Lachlan. The woman has deadly skill, and is more than a little distracting. Who better te infiltrate a keep overflowing with braw males than a wee female? The McCraes have te ken they have neither the skills nor the strength te breach Dubhain themselves.”