Highland Thief

by Alyson McLayne

  And she reveled in it.

  “God’s blood, Isobel!” His voice throbbed with need. “I knew it would be like this between us. A bloody firestorm. But we need to…we have to…”

  She felt his resistance building and clung tighter to him. He was denying her, battling with himself to slow things down. Yet even as he said the words, his hand at her waist slid downward along her spine and increased the pressure between them until his palm clamped like a vise around her backside, pushing their hips together as he thrust upward—and all the layers of wool between them suddenly seemed like the flimsiest of silk.

  He wasn’t gentle this time. His mouth captured hers, and she was ready, open and waiting for him. She snaked her arms upward to squeeze around his neck and drive her fingers into that silky hair, pushing free the leather that secured it. Gratitude that it hadn’t been cut so short that she couldn’t fist it like he did hers saturated every inch of her, and she gave thanks that the sword that had butchered the locks in battle hadn’t swung a few inches closer to the veins in his neck.

  She crushed him in her embrace, fear that he’d almost died riding alongside her desire.

  When she yanked her mouth free, gasping for air, he dropped his head and kissed down her throat. “Sweet Jesus. If Gavin were to see us now…” He found the pulse at the base of her neck and laved it with his tongue until she shivered. “We should go back, Izzy. We need a priest.”

  “A priest?” she asked hoarsely. An alarm started ringing in the back of her head, but she was so drenched in feelings and emotions that she struggled to make sense of it.

  This is Kerr. We doona talk about priests.

  “Aye. Father Lundie is still there. He can marry us tonight.”

  It took all her willpower, every stubborn inch of her character to slowly push herself upward from his chest. She clenched her teeth and ignored the way their bodies aligned at this new position, the way his hand released her hair and dropped down to grip her hips, his fingers digging into the curve of her arse. She ignored the rumble in his chest and the way his lips parted on a groan. Mostly, she ignored the need to rock against that hardened part of him between her legs—against Kerr.

  Instead, she forced herself to sit still and the muscles in her face to screw up into a frown. “Are you mad, Kerr MacAlister?” she asked breathlessly, thwarting her attempt to sound queenly and commanding. “I won’t marry you—ever! Didnae you receive my letter? I love anoth—”

  “Christ Almighty, Izzy!” he roared. “Doona say those words. Especially after the way you just kissed me. Although calling that a kiss is like calling a Valkyrie a sweet lass.”

  Her scowl deepened, and this time she didn’t have to force her face into any expression. Aye, the anger rose within her, replacing the lust that had besieged her so wildly moments ago.

  She reached for it now, embraced it in her arms like a woman welcoming home her lover.

  Nay, not a lover—a sister welcoming home her berserker brother.

  She poked her fingertip into his chest, emphasizing each word. “I will love whoe’er I like—and it willna be you. Row me back immediately. I was waiting for someone.”

  He captured her finger in his hand, his eyes on her face as he raised the tip to his lips. Kissed it. “I know who you were waiting for.”

  Her breath caught at the soft, warm pressure, the wet flick of his tongue on the sensitive skin. She tried to yank her hand away, but he held tight, continuing to stare up at her. And then he bit down, and she shuddered.

  Her anger dissipated in the blink of an eye, and she was once again consumed by fire.

  “Aye, Izzy. I’ll row you ashore.” He sat up and brought their bodies together—pelvis to pelvis, breast to chest. “You’ll be on land with me in no time.”

  A strange tone underlaid his words, and she frowned. What was he up to? He sounded determined, almost as if he was about to do something she wouldn’t like.

  But she didn’t have time to decipher his mood as he grasped her waist and lifted her off him and onto the seat behind her. A small grunt escaped his lips, and she understood the feeling. She felt it too—a protest at their separation. She bit her lip to stop her own groan from escaping.

  Aye, the loss of his heat and hardness was like being shoved out from under warm quilts on a cold winter day—while in the throes of the most enticing dream.

  He swiveled her hips, turning her to face away from him. She lifted her legs, one at a time, over the bench when they caught, and then she untangled her skirts, raised her head…and froze.

  Blackness surrounded them, and the only sound she heard was that of water lapping against the boat’s hull and a horse huffing somewhere nearby.

  “Kerr,” she croaked, as fear rose like a fist in her belly and grabbed on, suffocating her from the inside.

  His arms wrapped around her waist from behind and squeezed. “Breathe, dearling,” he murmured, his lips warm against her ear. “We willna be on the loch for long.”

  “It’s so dark. I can barely make out the shore.” She heard the panic in her voice and knew she could do nothing to stop it.

  “Aye, love. We drifted out, and a cloud has covered the moon. It will soon pass. I can steer the boat in with the oars, and Diabhla will help pull us across.”

  “Diabhla? Why is he pulling us?”

  Kerr glanced toward the sounds of the horse swimming somewhere to his left. Isobel followed his gaze but could see nothing of the stallion against the dark water surrounding them.

  She closed her eyes, tried to calm her racing heart, but even sitting in the boat, she felt the inexorable pull of the black, cold depths beneath them.

  “He isna yet,” Kerr said, “but he’ll be at the end of the lead soon. I didn’t want to leave him behind.”

  “Behind where?”

  “On the beach. He might have followed us, and ’tis too dangerous at night for him to swim untethered in the loch.”

  He grasped her waist and tried to push her onto the seat across from them, but she let out a frightened squeak and clamped her hands around his wrists. “Nay, I’ll fall in!”

  “I’ll not let that happen, and if it e’er did, I would pull you out.”

  “But what if I sink under and you canna find me?”

  Gentle fingers grasped her chin and turned her head to the side. As she peered at him, the cloud that covered the moon drifted away, and she could make out the familiar lines of his face and shape of his head. She used her imagination to fill in the dark, devouring eyes that never failed to incite some kind of emotion in her. Usually annoyance or excitement at getting the best of him. Or lust.

  Right now, the steadiness of his gaze calmed her. He would keep her safe.

  Then the boat lurched to the side, the end pulling around, and she let out a high-pitched squeak.

  “What was that?” she yelped, her previous certitude forgotten.

  “Diabhla. He’s at the end of his lead.” His hands released her, and with nothing to hold onto, her arms flailed. He rose behind her, and the boat rocked, but instead of pushing her across to the opposite bench like she expected him to, he nudged her forward until she perched on the edge of her seat. Then he squeezed onto the bench behind her, his long legs enveloping her on either side.

  She grasped his bare thighs—his plaid having ridden up—to steady herself. The smoothness of his skin startled her for a moment, and she flexed her hands over the hardened muscles, her fingertips tracing tiny circles through the smattering of soft hair on top.

  He leaned against her back, bending her forward, and grasped the handles of both oars. She straightened when he leaned back, more than a little annoyed.

  God’s blood! The man is as big and heavy as a bear!

  “Doona think about the water, Isobel. Close your eyes and think about us. You forgot your fear when you were kissing me.” She could h
ear the smile in his voice, the self-satisfied amusement, and it irked her. Heat rose up her cheeks, and she tried to pretend it was anger, but she knew it was more than that. She was embarrassed. And more than a little excited again at the intimacy of their position. The rigid shape of his cock pressed against her backside, and she wanted to tilt her hips against it.

  She stared hard at the other bench, willing herself to move toward it before she made a fool of herself—again—but her eyes kept slipping sideways to the unending black water that surrounded them. She inhaled deeply, slowly, and tried to release her fear, to command her legs to work.

  She failed.

  He laid his chin on her head as he dipped one of the oars into the water in small repetitive circles and the boat turned. “Doona worry, lass. We’ll be there in no time.”

  When he’d set them in the other direction, he reached forward again and pulled hard on the oars so the boat slid backward with a great surge.

  She raised her eyes, startled, and her gaze landed on the opposite shore that now lay ahead of them, causing her mouth to drop open in confusion. This shoreline was much closer than the one she’d been staring at before—and they were travelling away from it.

  She screwed up her brow, her mind reeling, as she attempted to get her bearings. Maybe Diabhla had gotten turned around and Kerr was trying to lead him back in.

  But then the aggravating man pulled the oars again, his muscles bulging against her arms, and the boat travelled farther into the loch…and away from the beach she stared at.

  Something caught her attention—movement—and she looked up to the top of the bluff. For a moment, she thought she saw a man, but then a cloud darkened the moon again.

  She squinted her eyes. Did I imagine that?

  When the cloud cleared, they were too far away for her to make out anything.

  Anxiety churned her guts. “Why are we going this way?” she asked, twisting to look behind her, but his massive chest and arms blocked her view.

  “We’re crossing the loch,” he said, continuing to row. “I’m taking you to the other side.”

  Shock coursed through her. “Nay!” She pointed ahead of her at the receding shoreline. “Take me there, Kerr!”

  But instead of answering her, he kept rowing, picking up speed until the wind ruffled her hair.

  “Go forward,” she yelled. “We could drown. The boat’s not big enough, and the loch is too wide to cross!”

  Without pausing, he dropped his head into the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. She shivered, her breath catching in her throat at the feel of his lips on her skin.

  Then he bit her. “This is my favorite spot, my favorite smell, in all the world,” he murmured. “I would know your scent, the feel of you against my mouth anywhere.”

  And for a moment, she melted. Her eyes drifted shut, her spine softened against him, and her mind fogged over. The surge of the boat rocked rhythmically beneath them, and she unthinkingly tilted her head to the side to give him greater access.

  He wasted no time and laved her skin hotly with his tongue. “If my hands were free, Izzy, I would touch you all over.” His voice had roughened. “I’d stroke up the insides of your thighs and over your belly and breasts. I would squeeze just hard enough to make you moan and your woman’s mound weep.” His legs widened on either side of hers, and when her own thighs loosened, she imagined his hands on her body doing exactly as he’d described.

  Nay! She knew what he was doing.

  Sitting up, she gave her head a shake, and then blinked to dispel the lethargy and heat from her body that his shocking words had produced.

  Not so shocking, considering what we just did.

  She had to clear her throat before speaking. “Stop it. You’re trying to distract me.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Is it working on you?” she countered.

  He huffed out a laugh and then nudged forward with his hips. “Does it feel like it’s working?”

  The hard ridge that pressed behind her from the tip of her tailbone to her waist felt like a deadly weapon. She wanted to push back against it—to sheathe the steely sword.

  She’d spent years denying this pull between them, and now that she’d loosed it, she couldn’t reel it back in.

  “Do you want me to keep going?” he asked. “Tell you where I want to put my lips and tongue? It’s all true, whether it’s meant to distract you or not.” He nipped at her, and she jumped. When he sucked on the bite, she barely stopped herself from groaning. “Should I tell you how I want to nibble over your arse and up your spine? Then turn you over and bite the undersides of your—”

  She elbowed him hard in the gut, and he grunted—and not from desire this time.

  “God’s blood. Your elbows are sharp as daggers! Did Gavin teach you how to do that?”

  “I taught myself how to do that. I’m not helpless, Kerr. Take me back or I’ll scream. Sound travels across water. Someone is sure to hear me, and Gavin will have your hide for this—after Gregor strings you up by your toes and Darach’s hounds feast on your belly.”

  He snorted in amusement but kept rowing; the land receded alarmingly quickly. Obviously, he didn’t care that he was about to become the dogs’ dinner.

  “Bloodthirsty wench. What will Lachlan and Callum do? Will they defend me?”

  “Nay. Lachlan will stand by and give advice on how to do it better.”

  He nipped the curve of her ear, and her mind went blank.

  “And what will the brilliant mind of my last foster brother come up with?” he asked.

  She tried to make her voice strong, but every moment he had his tongue and lips on her ear, her limbs grew heavier and she found it harder to concentrate. “Callum will tell the others not to kill you so he can devise a different, more horrible way to punish you.”

  He bit the lobe this time, and then straightened. “You have the right of it, love. They’re as bloodthirsty as you are. But we’re halfway across. If we turn around now, we’ll be on the water longer.”

  She could feel his heart pounding strong and fast in his chest, powering the incredible strength he put into every stroke of the oars.

  “Besides, I’ll have a difficult time rotating Diabhla,” he continued. “I’ll have to jump in and pull him around physically. ’Twill be hard for him. Hopefully he willna kick me in the crown and knock me right to the bottom. I wouldnae be able to save you then. Or myself.”

  Her hands clenched his thighs, and this time she dug her nails in. “I can still scream so they know where I am.” She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs to yell so loudly his ears would ring for days.

  “And let the monster know we’re here too,” he added, before she bellowed for help.

  She hesitated, and her breath gusted past her teeth. “What?”

  “Aye, we’d never see the beast coming for us in the dark. I wonder if it would take Diabhla first. Or maybe tip o’er the boat and gobble us all up at once.”

  Her stomach tightened at his words. She turned her head to look at him, but it was too dark to read the truth in his eyes. Did he jest? “Loch Ness is a far way from here.”

  “True, but I’ve heard of sightings as far away as Eire. And stories abound about other such monsters on the mainland. Maybe we haven’t seen this one because it hunts only at night.”

  A sense of inevitability filled her as she turned back to watch the land fade quickly away. He had her well and truly trapped. And she’d helped him do it—she was the one who’d devised the plan to get on a boat and float out on the water; she was the one who’d plotted so Kerr alone would know where to find her. She couldn’t fight him for fear of rocking the boat, and she couldn’t swim away.

  And talking hadn’t helped.

  But maybe she hadn’t said the right things? The great Laird MacAlister wasn’t one to be ordered around. Ma
ybe she needed to tempt him—to bribe him. Surely if she offered the right incentive, he’d return her home.

  But what does he want?

  Me.

  Aye, that was obvious from the bulge pressing into her back. And the need in his voice when he’d touched her.

  Kerr MacAlister wants me. Needs me.

  She tried to tamp down her own excitement at the thought, but it washed through her like a tidal wave. She forced herself to breathe deeply, to calm herself.

  She wouldn’t have to take things too far. Surely he would turn the boat around at the first hint of her offer.

  Gentling her hands, she let her fingers drift to the insides of his thighs. The tips circled over his skin, slowly, barely there, before she changed the pressure and scraped with her nails.

  For the first time since he’d started rowing, Kerr’s rhythm faltered, and she felt his chest expand against her back before the air shuddered from his lungs.

  “Izzy, what are you doing?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked coyly.

  He huffed out a laugh, then groaned as she scraped her nails farther along his thigh. “Is this how you intend to take your revenge? Because if it is, I may steal you away more often.”

  “Doona think of it as revenge, Laird MacAlister, but rather as a promise.”

  “A promise?”

  “Aye. An exchange of sorts. If you take me back to MacKinnon land, I’ll indulge you…like this.” She trailed her hands over the tops of his legs to the outside and then stretched back along his thighs. When she reached the muscled curve of his bare arse, she dug in her nails before lessening the pressure and drawing them forward again.

  He grunted in response, dropped the oars, and wrapped his arms around her middle, holding her tightly in place. He nipped the crook of her neck, hard enough that she knew he was aroused, but also angry. “So, you’ll touch me intimately in order to get what you want. There is a name for women, for men, too, who trade in such acts. Usually, the women have no choice in the matter. They need to eat, or their children need to eat. My brothers and I try to help them whene’er we can. Gregor taught us this—we help the most vulnerable among us. ’Tis not so with you, Lady MacKinnon.”