Highland Warrior

by McCollum, Heather

  Joshua nearly tripped over the pooling of his clothes, cursed, and bent to untie his own furs and boots, shucking them before she could turn around. She straightened, her blond hair pulled to one side, exposing the slim muscles of her back and the seductive spot at the base of her skull. He came up behind her, his naked body pressed against her still-covered arse, his jack hard and lifted between them. His hands were icy, so he pressed them against the outsides of his thighs, hoping his body heat would warm them.

  Leaning in, his hot mouth trailed across the space between her shoulder and neck. Her hair spilled backward as her face tipped up to the low ceiling of rock, giving him access to her throat. His mouth settled against her thrumming pulse. She smelled more delicious than any sweet he’d ever tasted, a mix of warm spice and womanly lust. Everything about her called him: the softness of her skin, the heat from her body, her scent and bravery to bring him into her secluded home.

  Reaching around, he cupped her breasts, lifting them as she pressed her back against him, moving her arse in a wanton circle. His groan rumbled up from his chest on a long exhale. Stretching her arms upward, she turned, and he watched the graceful length in them and her fingers. Her long limbs lay down over his shoulders where she pulled his mouth back to hers, slanting immediately into a hot, open kiss. Their mutual touching was well underway, and Joshua couldn’t think of a better prize for finding her.

  She rubbed against his jack, and he slid his hands down her sides, following the slopes inward and over to the front of her open trousers. Down in the center, his fingers dove, drawn to the wet heat of her. She pushed into his hand and moaned as he entered her.

  “Och, but ye are soaked and so hot inside, Kára lass,” he said, his voice rough. She moaned as he worked her flesh. Lips parted, her hands plucked at her trousers, sliding them down to her feet to kick aside. Her beautiful body was completely bare. Full breasts and flared hips, she was no virginal girl. Nay, Kára was all exquisitely ripe woman.

  “Stay with me, Highlander,” she whispered at his ear, kissing along his jawline and neck as she rubbed the crux of her legs against him.

  With a little hop, she lifted her legs up around his hips again, kissing his mouth with wild abandon. He caught her arse in his two hands, backing them up toward a large area of furs and quilts. His legs took them there without conscious thought. Their breaths mingled, and he lowered them, until she was flat upon the furs.

  The firelight cast her skin in gold and shadows as she plumped her own breasts. Her legs slid out wide, the core of her beckoning him with an invitation he would never refuse.

  “I want to taste ye, lass,” he said, bending his head between her knees. Kára’s breath sucked in as his mouth covered her, savoring the proof of her desire. He played her expertly, bringing her higher and higher. For long minutes she thrashed above him, her fingers curling into the quilts.

  “Joshua Sinclair,” she gasped. He loved to hear his name on her tongue and continued loving her until she yelled, filling the underground space with the sound of her ultimate satisfaction.

  Rising above her, he moved up her body, taking in the flushed glow of her skin in the firelight and her wide eyes. Her wry grin had been replaced by astonishment. Had no one ever pleasured her like that before? He smiled at the thought. “I promised to lick every bit of ye.”

  Her breathing was labored. “I ache still.” She let her knees fall back out, and he grabbed around her hips, tilting her pelvis upward to meet him.

  “Kára?” He fought for control, waiting for her answer. Aye or nay, although nay might strike him dead right there. “Kára? May I?”

  “Aye,” she said, staring up into his face. With a guttural cry, Joshua thrust inside, and his eyes tipped upward as if he had found Heaven and wished to worship. Hot and wet, Kára totally engulfed him, and he rocked into her open body.

  Gasping upon his first thrust, she drew shallow breaths and hooked her ankles across his back as if she wished to lock him up inside her. He would give his soul to be her prisoner.

  They quickly created a rhythm, giving and taking with equal force. Her kisses were as open as her body and just as wild. Fingers raked through his hair and scratched his back, and he balled his fist into her long tresses as the tempo increased. When he felt upon the edge, he tried to pull out of her body, but she held him to her, continuing to thrust upward.

  “I would not burden ye with a bastard, lass,” he managed to say, but she didn’t release him. “Kára—”

  “Fill me full, Highlander.”

  Her words tore through him. It was as if he could not physically leave her body as the two of them teetered on the edge with each thrust without restraint. Rising up higher on her body, he angled himself so the base of his jack rubbed against her most sensitive spot between them. Her eyes widened; her lips parted. Sweat beaded on Joshua’s forehead as their bodies strained together. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t shift his gaze from her beautiful eyes.

  “My holy stars,” she screamed, and he felt her body clench.

  Joshua roared as his release rolled through his body, and he swore she ripped a part of his soul from inside him. His teeth clapped together as they continued to ride out the waves of ecstasy, staring into each other’s eyes, firelight splashing gold against their skin.

  Long, exquisite minutes later, they slowed. “Bloody holy stars” was right. He tried to move to the side, but she kept him there. He smiled. “Are ye keeping me prisoner then?”

  Stretching her arms up over her head, he felt himself already start to harden at the rise of her breasts and feel of her body under him. “I would if I could,” she said and finally released her legs, so he could pull her to his side. He hugged her close, inhaling the mix of their scents.

  The fire warmed the den that he hadn’t had time or desire to investigate before. Surrounded by interlocking stone, the walls of the medium-sized room rose up about eight feet in a rectangle. The floor was stone and scattered with woven rugs. The hearth sat in the center of the room where the smoke rose through the hole they had descended. A table and several shelves were made of stone and held baskets of food and bladders, hopefully of ale or fresh water.

  Kára pulled a sewn quilt, painted with colorful flowers, over them, and he realized they lay in a nest of furs, pillows, and blankets on a thick tick on the stone floor. But what drew his eyes were the paintings on the walls. Bright renditions of birds and seascapes, of wind blowing wildflowers, and beautiful horses covered the stone all around them. When he looked back to her face, he realized she was watching him closely.

  “What do you think of my den?” she asked.

  “Surprising, beautiful, mysterious, and warm,” he said, leaning in to kiss her. “Like ye, Calisto.”

  She smiled widely and rolled out of their nest to pad across the room, and grabbed a bladder from a shelf. Totally naked and comfortable with it, she uncorked the bladder and drank. He watched the slender column of her throat as she swallowed, her lovely body laid bare to his gaze. It made him even thirstier. Her hips swayed naturally as she walked back, handing it to him.

  Clear, fresh ale slid down his throat. When he lowered it, she was watching him, a tilt to her head and brows bent, studying him as if he were a riddle she must solve.

  “What are ye thinking?” he asked, and she shook her head.

  Kára lifted the quilt and climbed back under with him. She rolled onto her side, presenting her arse, and shifted until she pressed her entire backside into the curve of his body. His arm came over to stroke her stomach, marveling at the softness there.

  “Let us sleep for a bit,” she said.

  He laid his head back on the pillows, looking at the waves in her thick, golden hair. “Only for a bit?”

  Her hand slid behind, her fingernail trailing along the muscles of his hip and thigh. “Until you’re ready for me to make you roar again,” she said, leaning bac
k to smile up into his face, her earlier questioning look wiped away.

  He returned her grin. “Then ye better fall asleep quickly, because I will be ready in less than five minutes.”

  Chapter Four

  “There are roads which must not be followed, armies which must not be attacked, towns which must not be besieged, positions which must not be contested, commands of the sovereign which

  must not be obeyed.”

  Sun Tzu – The Art of War

  Kára poured the warmed rabbit stew into two pottery bowls. She wore a soft woolen smock and slippers and padded over to the table where Joshua sat polishing the three daggers that she’d shown him. One was her father’s, one was her dead husband’s, and one was her own. She set the bowls down and moved to sit across from him, noticing he’d put a plump pillow on the seat of her stool.

  Without looking up he said, “I thought ye might be a bit sore down there.” He glanced at the juncture of her legs, a roguish grin on his handsome face. “At last count we came together four times.”

  “You count?” she asked, watching his strong fingers work the dry cloth over the steel until it shone in the firelight.

  “Bloody hell, aye,” he said. “A man has got to have something about which to boast.”

  She laughed. “Remind me not to introduce you to my amma then,” she said, speaking about her grandmother. It was easy jesting with Joshua, and after what they had shared over the last night and morning, she felt completely open to him. Except, of course, about her family and her desperate need to get him to stay on Orkney and lead them in war against Robert Stuart.

  “Amma means grandmother?”

  She nodded, and he smiled.

  “Does she live near?”

  Did she trust him enough to tell him where their village hid under the hills on the coast? If he was going to train them to fight and lead them, he would have to meet her people. “Aye, we call our small village Hillside. It sits on the coast north of here.”

  “I have seen no village along the coast, except the one with the tavern along the bay.”

  She watched him closely. “It is mostly hidden. I can take you there today.”

  His smile faded. “I was planning to find the captain of that ship in the bay today to secure a passage to the mainland.”

  Alarm shot through Kára, but she kept her words even. “You knocked the captain flat on his face last night outside the tavern. Doubtful he will take you onboard.”

  “Bloody hell,” he murmured. “I will have to ride south to another port.”

  “Why are you so anxious to return to Scotia?” she asked, using the ancient word for Scotland. Did he miss someone there? The thought tightened inside her. “You can stay with us for the winter. With me. Right here.” She moved her arm out to the side to indicate her cozy home.

  “My three brothers, sister, and aunt are there,” he said, setting down the daggers to lift his spoon. She watched him take several bites, swallowing appreciatively. “I should see how they fare. And I miss my horses.”

  “You have more than the one horse in the barn above?”

  “Aye.” He chuckled. “I have over one hundred bays.”

  She blinked. “One hundred horses?” He was wealthy? On top of being the most renowned warrior in the land and such a generous lover that she would remember him all the way to the grave?

  “My brothers each have a hundred also. We have a large army of mounted warriors.” He pointed his spoon at the walls. “Perhaps ye should come to Girnigoe Castle with me. Ye seem to like horses.”

  She inhaled fully and nodded, giving him a small smile. “And not to eat.”

  He grinned, shoveling more of the stew into his mouth, a mouth that had done such wanton and wonderful things to various parts of her body. She swallowed hard against the memory.

  “Ye paint well,” he said, turning his gaze to the images across her walls. Flowers, horses, ocean scenes decorated most of the flat surfaces in her den.

  “My amma is an artist. She can paint anything to look just like the real object. She taught me some of her ways, but I do not have her talent.” She shrugged. “I spend much time down here when the winter blows in for months. So I surround myself with spring.”

  He studied the herds she’d painted from his seat. “Ye capture the free spirit of horses well.” She could see him slowly working his way across her scenes, stopping at the larger painting of her horse, Broch.

  “Would your brothers and sister come to Orkney with their armies of horses if you asked?” she asked softly.

  He turned back to her, his brows lowered. “Getting the horses across the firth would be difficult,” he said, meeting her eyes. There were questions in his stare. “Multiple ships would be required to sail them the six hours over to Birsay. Once on Orkney, there’d be nowhere to house our horses or men.”

  Was his sister also a warrior? Were Joshua’s brothers as large as he? Would they fight with him to conquer Robert and his cruel sons?

  “Did ye have a horse at one time?” he asked when she didn’t respond.

  She nodded, her lips twitching into a smile past the ache of sadness in her eyes. “My family owned several, but I loved Broch the most. She was frisky and ran as fast as the wind along the cliffs.” She blinked.

  “Broch? Does it mean something in your language?”

  “The halo that encircles the full moon is called a broch. She was born with a white circle around one eye.” She nodded to the painting on the wall.

  He glanced that way and then back to her, a frown tightening his face. “How did she die?”

  Kára put down her spoon, losing her appetite. “I do not know. She was taken from me.”

  He studied the painting. “I think I have seen that horse,” he said. “Alive.”

  Her lovely mare was still alive? Kára’s face fell as her chest clenched. She leaned forward, her fist tightening. “Was she being treated well?” she whispered. Torture through terror was worse than death, something she knew too well.

  He leaned forward, too, his hand sliding across to squeeze hers on the table. “From what I could see, aye. Did Lord Robert take her from ye?”

  Kára nodded. “She is not… He does not beat her then?”

  “His daughter, Jean, rides her. The mare’s spirit seems high. I saw no signs of abuse.”

  Tears came to Kára’s eyes, and she sniffed them back. When Broch had been taken, she had mourned her as if she’d died.

  Joshua nodded to emphasize his words. “Lord Robert may treat his workers terribly, but his horses are kept fed and groomed. And his daughter is kinder than he.”

  Kára knew of Jean Stuart, Lord Robert’s second eldest daughter. She was a well-known beauty who was said to keep many lovers. Had Joshua been one? A tightening twisted in her middle like a worm.

  “Which is why I was leaving his service,” Joshua continued.

  Kára looked at him. “Because of Jean?”

  “Nay, because Robert is a bloody tyrant,” he said. “And I refused to raise my sword against the Orkney inhabitants.”

  “And yet you left him and his henchmen alive to threaten, steal, and torture us himself,” she said and stood, pacing to the bed. “Us, the Orkney inhabitants.” She couldn’t quite keep the sneer out of her voice.

  Joshua turned on his stool, his gaze following her. “I am not of this land, Kára,” he said, his brows low. “I do not wish to become involved with the politics.”

  “You became involved as soon as you started training his men to become more efficient at subduing or killing us,” she said.

  He stood, going to her. Clasping her upper arms, he bent to meet her eyes. “I trained his men to protect themselves when set upon. It was easy to see that the inhabitants here are not a true threat, so I did not train them offensively.”

  She held his stare without
blinking. “We could be a true threat if we had someone strong to lead us, someone who knows how to win a war against a tyrant.”

  Joshua exhaled, dropping his arms to cross them over his chest. “Lord Robert is the uncle of James, the king of Scotland. If I kill him, I could bring war to my clan in Scotland.”

  “Robert is an illegitimate uncle,” she countered.

  “Legitimate enough for the king’s father to have given Robert the earldom of Orkney before he died.” He stared into her eyes, his face turning to stone. “Has Robert done something to ye, Kára, something other than take your horse? Because if he has…” Joshua’s lips curled back, showing his teeth in a near snarl. “I will rip his ballocks off and choke him with them before cutting him from neck to navel for his guts to roll out.”

  Her eyes widened at the detailed threat. What could she say? Robert had not raped her, if that was what he asked. But he had harmed her, nonetheless. And then there were his sons.

  “Or…” Kára said slowly, “he and his eldest son, Henry, could disappear in the sea. Without any witnesses, King James would have no reason to suspect you.”

  “Did either of them do something to ye?” he asked, rooted to the spot, his barely held anger ready to explode into violence. She could lie and incite him to race off to kill Robert and perhaps even Henry and Patrick, maybe even the sheriff that called himself The Brute of Orkney. But without his armies or help from her people, the Stuart soldiers and the bloody Brute would surely kill her last hope for vengeance. One man against a hundred armed soldiers could not win, no matter how well trained he was.