Highland Vixen Read online

  Marcus opened his eyes and sent her a wicked look. A moment later, the bed rocked as he flipped and turned and pinned her beneath him. He had a knee pressed between her thighs, opening them so he could reach down and tease her with his fingertips.

  “Ye might enjoy it,” he rasped as he rubbed her. When she shifted, he caught her wrists and raised them above her head, pressing them to the bed and holding them there as he nuzzled against her neck. It was a dramatic shift that ripped away any illusion she might have of him being docile. He was choosing to be kind to her and court her sweetly.

  “Marcus MacPherson,” she muttered softly, “ye are by far the most unlikely man I ever thought would take the time to woo.”

  He lifted his head but held her wrists down. The only light came from the fire that had reduced itself to a bed of glowing red coals. The ruby light bathed his features, allowing her to glimpse the unguarded expression on his face. She had the feeling that very few souls alive had seen this side of him.

  “Ye think I like the idea of being used any more than ye do?”

  “No,” she answered.

  He contemplated her for a long moment before he shifted his hands and flattened them against the bed to lever himself up and off her. She felt his withdrawal keenly, reality rushing back in to remind her she did not know him at all.

  And trust? The only certainty she had was in his nature to devote himself to his duty. She sat up so her chemise fluttered down to cover her. The silence was nearly deafening, and she realized he was withdrawing from her, bound by her own insistence that her body was her only remaining possession.

  So she went to him, not really understanding what she was doing, only that she was so tired of being alone and couldn’t bear to inflict the same on another person. He’d ended up leaning on the stack of pillows, and she crawled right up onto his lap. He clasped her to him, smoothing his hands along her sides and down to cup her hips. It seemed so natural to open her thighs and let his member slide up into her body. There was a twinge of discomfort as he stretched her once more, but it was worth it to be united with him again.

  “Jesus…Helen…” He was muttering against her neck, kissing her skin and sending ripples of delight down her body. She rose and fell as he guided her with his hands, teaching her the motion.

  The pleasure and need built slowly this time, coming from deeper inside her. The pace was hers to control; her cravings were hers to satisfy. Confidence filled her as she arched back. For some reason, she enjoyed with an insane intensity the grip he had on her hips. It was demanding, and yet she flourished with the knowledge that he was intent on having her.

  Right, wrong, none of that mattered. There was only room in her mind for the growing need to feed their appetites. The bed ropes protested, the canopy swaying as she increased her pace and he lifted up off the bed to meet every one of her downward plunges. He was penetrating deeper, all the way to her core. She felt herself nearing that moment of explosion, and when it happened, she would have sworn her passage gripped him, trying to milk his member.

  He gasped at her, thrusting up into her body as his seed began to spew inside her. It was hot and triggered a second wave of delight that literally stole her breath. She didn’t much care, collapsing onto the body of her lover, somewhat aware of him turning her so they ended up sprawled on the surface of the bed, their rasping breaths filling the chamber.

  * * *

  “Good morning!”

  Bhaic MacPherson pushed the door open as Marcus snarled and landed on his feet next to the bed. Helen grabbed the bed clothing while Bhaic smirked at his brother.

  “Still sleeping, Marcus?” Bhaic asked. “Whatever could keep ye in bed?”

  “Ye’re a dead man,” Marcus declared before he set off after his sibling. They cleared the outer chamber and disappeared while Helen was still blinking away the last of slumber’s hold.

  “Here now.” Ailis was suddenly there with a chemise in hand. “Best get something on,” her friend said. “Half the clan is set to descend here and extract their share of amusement.”

  Helen sat up and then stopped as pain went through her passage.

  “Aye.” Ailis came closer and dropped the chemise over Helen’s head. “Takes ye by surprise, does it no’?”

  Helen found the sleeves and pushed her hands into them. Senga was there as well, holding out Helen’s hip roll. Helen had barely reached for it when there was another loud entrance into the room.

  “Morning, mistress!”

  “Fine day to ye!”

  Helen found herself flat against the wall of the bedchamber with Ailis shielding her while Finley and Skene ripped the bedding aside to get at the sheet. They hooted in victory and pulled it off the bed before nearly running across the chamber.

  “What are ye doing?” Helen demanded.

  Finley stopped near the door. “Well now, mistress, it’s fixing to snow, so we’re going to hang this in the hall.”

  Helen felt the blood drain from her face. Finley chuckled at her response before he disappeared down the passageway.

  “I am suddenly no’ very hungry.”

  * * *

  “Ye’re looking for me.”

  Helen jumped, but Marcus anticipated her motions. He’d come up behind her and captured her startled body against his as he made a soft sound next to her ear.

  “Admit it,” he insisted as he placed a kiss on the side of her neck.

  “Just because I am looking out of a window does no’ mean—”

  He opened his lips and gently bit the skin on the side of her neck. She shivered, her knees going weak. Her body seemed to have no interest in putting up a good front. No, her flesh was far more inclined to melt into his embrace.

  “Ye are looking out to the training yard.” He smoothed his hands along her arms without giving her enough space to disengage from the embrace. “For me.”

  She had been, and he’d noticed the details that condemned her, as he so often did. Part of her was excited by the way he noticed things about her. “Perhaps I was making sure I could avoid ye.”

  Her voice lacked any sharp edges. Instead, it came across as a teasing challenge that earned her a soft chuckle from Marcus. He’d buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply.

  “I like the way ye smell, Helen.” He shifted closer, allowing her to feel just how true his words were.

  “I do nae use any oils.” She wasn’t sure why she said anything, just that she was suddenly shy and uncertain.

  “Ye do nae need any.” He nuzzled against her neck again, but one of his hands ventured lower. “Especially here.”

  He’d covered her mons. The fabric of her skirts suddenly felt too thin.

  “What are ye about?” she asked. “Ye never leave the training yard this time of day.”

  He chuckled again. “And ye know that?” He made a low sound of approval. “We’re better suited to each other than either of us knows.”

  “Ye’re the one who lined yer men up in front of me after your father told ye to take me home.” She wasn’t sure why she spoke, hadn’t really realized how much it bothered her. Marcus stiffened behind her. A moment later, he turned her around but stood squarely in her path.

  “Ye want to hear me admit I thought ye’d no’ have me?”

  Helen was distracted by the swelling around one of his eyes. She reached up to touch him, the topic of their conversation completely lost in her concern.

  “Bhaic looks worse.” He captured her hand and pressed a kiss against the open palm. “Do nae ignore me, Helen. I must ride out, and I would no’ have something left unresolved between us.”

  “Ride out?” She turned her head and looked out the window again. “There is a storm brewing. A heavy one.” The sky was turning black with the promise of snow.

  “Ye would care?”

  She looked back at him with
her lower lip rolled in as she worried it. But there was something flickering in his eyes that made her nod. Some need she’d never considered him the sort to feel, and yet it was there. Just like the night before, when she’d glimpsed the man inside him that craved approval just as she did.

  “Ye should wait.”

  He smiled at her request. “I can nae. Me father can see just fine. He’d no’ have asked me to venture out if the matter were no’ an important one.”

  She nodded but didn’t really agree. Of course, she didn’t know his reasoning. She realized that she would have to become accustomed to him not sharing details with her. When it came to his position, she was still very much an outsider.

  There was a step in the passageway behind them. Marcus turned his head slightly to catch the sound before shifting to the side and taking her with him. They ended up behind a weapons rack, hidden from anyone who might venture too close.

  “And I can nae face me duty without a last taste of ye.”

  It was an admission he whispered as he pressed her against the wall. He covered her mouth with his, kissing her firmly as she twisted from the overwhelming need gripping her. How and where it had come from, she really didn’t know. Somehow, having him near simply gave rise to a riot of sensations that assaulted her reasoning skills until they fell away and let her cravings reign supreme.

  She reached for him in a frantic way, the knowledge that he was leaving making her desperate to touch him. He seemed in agreement, kissing her hard as he yanked her skirts up and lifted her knee so he could touch the center of her body. She locked her leg around his waist, making him pull his head up and consider her with an eyebrow raised.

  “I was always in the kitchens when everyone else was at the hall,” she explained. “What do ye think I saw?”

  He offered her a cocky grin before she pulled his kilt up and felt his member against her thigh. He teased her slit for a moment, plunging his finger into her cleft to stroke her bud. She jerked, sharp need feeling as if it were splitting her open. But he didn’t feed it just yet. He teased her, not stopping until his fingers were slick with the flow from her body.

  “Now ye’re ready…” he whispered with satisfaction. He’d threaded his other hand into her hair and tightened it so that she was his captive. They locked gazes, his eyes shining with intent. “Never before ye’re hungry for me, Helen. I swear that to ye.”

  It was a blunt, savage declaration that made her feel more cherished than she ever had. He pulled her close, the head of his cock slipping between the folds of her sex before he eased himself inside her. His jaw was tight with the effort of holding back the urge to impale her. She felt him straining to maintain a slow pace, and decided it didn’t suit her at all.

  “I didn’t want one of yer men”—she dug her fingernails into the skin on his neck—“because they would never have demanded I accept them.”

  She drew her nails across his skin, watched the way his lips curled back to expose his gritted teeth. His hands tightened on her hips as his eyes glowed with anticipation.

  “I did nae have the right to.” He plunged up inside her. Time froze as they both absorbed being locked together. It was the purest form of intimacy she’d ever experienced. Her body was stretching around his, gripping his member as she trembled in reaction to being taken. “And now, I will never let ye go.”

  It was a declaration. One that both delighted and frightened her. The combination was intoxicating, making a mockery of everything she thought she wanted. At that moment, there was only him and the way she craved being his. Marcus didn’t disappoint her. He took her, driving the breath from her body as she strained to make it easier for him to drive himself all the way to her core. There was only the way their bodies met and parted and the growing need to move faster, harder, deeper.

  He pushed her head against his shoulder to muffle her cries, clenching his jaw to contain his own. When she reached the zenith, she cried out into the linen of his shirt, feeling as if her bones might break as he clasped her against him in those final moments while he found his release.

  He leaned on the wall that she was pressed to, both of them panting. He cupped her jaw, raising her face so that he could look into her eyes. “Mine.”

  It was the demand she didn’t want to admit she craved. She curled her fingers into his shirt, unsure if she wanted to push him away or yank him closer. She let out a snort of frustration.

  “Ye make me feel insane, Marcus MacPherson.”

  Her comment earned her a grin that was every bit as smug and arrogant as she expected from him, and yet it was very personal too. He pulled away from her, allowing her skirts to fall and cover her legs.

  She felt the parting keenly, reaching out for him in spite of the fact that she knew he would go, no matter what she said. Helen stopped with her hand inches from his shoulder. “Sorry.”

  He caught her hand and raised it to his lips. “I have to go and fetch me sister.”

  “Yer sister?”

  Marcus nodded, looking less than pleased with his impending duty. It was a look she recognized well from the day he’d stolen her.

  “With Morton intent on making alliances through marriage, me father fears Jocelyn is at risk. I’m to bring her back from where she has been fostered with Laird McLeod so she might be protected.”

  Helen covered her lips with her hand, Shamus’s confession rising from her memory. Marcus shared a look with her.

  “Ye know me sister has no love for our sire?” he asked quietly.

  Helen nodded. “From yer father’s own lips.”

  Marcus crossed his arms over his chest. He was staring her down, or at least doing his best to make her give up what she knew. Helen drew herself up. “Ye’ll have to ask yer father what he said, no’ expect me to carry his secrets. I am no’ a gossip, Marcus, and I’ve no plans to become one. Father Matthew Peter has quite enough to say to me as it is.”

  Marcus slowly grinned before he backed up and went around the weapons rack. He turned in the passageway and shot her a look full of wicked intent. “He’ll likely have something more to say today, since he’s waiting in the yard with me men to bless us before we depart.”

  Her cheeks turned crimson as Marcus winked at her before his expression went serious. “Make yerself some chemises, lass. No one will dare tell ye the fabric is no’ yers for the using. And if they do, indulge me and let me know, so I can thrash them.”

  “Well, that will not happen,” she informed him, her hands on her hips. “I do nae need ye to take care of me, Marcus.”

  He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “Yes, ye do, and yes, I will.”

  She ended up flushed and breathless as she recalled vividly how it had felt to have him prove himself to her. He pressed his lips into a silent kiss before he turned and left, the longer folds of his kilt swaying behind him.

  * * *

  “Ye should be ashamed,” Ailis whispered.

  Bhaic flashed her a completely unrepentant grin. He reached under the table and gripped her thigh.

  “Marcus looks worse than I do.”

  “Fighting with yer brother is a sin,” Ailis continued.

  “Marcus chasing me below floors as bare as a newborn was sinful.” Bhaic smirked. “However, now that he’s wed, the swine will likely escape Father Matthew Peter’s wrath because he wasn’t tempting the other lasses in the hall.”

  “Ye began it.”

  Bhaic held up a finger. “I disagree, Wife.”

  Ailis ended up conceding the point. She fluttered her eyelashes, enjoying the moment, even if she had lost the argument. It afforded her a chance to look across the hall.

  “Who is that?”

  “Chief Gunn,” Bhaic supplied. “One of Laird Gunn’s men. Another man feeling the bite of Morton’s demands. Seems he was no’ given leave from court in time to beat the snow home. Mind ye, I belie
ve he only asked for shelter for the good of his horses. The man is from the northern Highlands. I am no’ sure this is enough snow to stop him.”

  Ailis looked at the man in question. He wore a full sheepskin down his back, the wool facing her. Part of it was sewn into a hood that might be raised when the weather turned foul. His men all had similar attire. They were suited to their environment: rough, hardened, and clearing away every morsel of food placed in front of them, because they knew it might be the last they had for some time.

  Her baby kicked, drawing her attention to her rounded belly. Bhaic noted her shifting her gaze downward and reached over so she might place his hand over the spot where the babe was moving. His face lit with enjoyment as he felt the motions of his child.

  “I adore ye, Ailis Robertson.” He uttered the name he’d been raised to curse.

  Ailis reached up and stroked his jawline. “And I love ye, Bhaic MacPherson.”

  * * *

  “There’s something a man does nae see very often.”

  Robert glanced behind him at Ailis and Bhaic and turned back around with a sniff. “I’d lose me appetite if it wasn’t pleasing me so much to eat as much MacPherson food as I can.” He reached over and grabbed a round of bread that he shoved into his shirt. “His grandfather would piss on him if he could see him dancing to his enemy’s tune.”

  “Heard it was the Earl of Morton that made them wed.”

  Robert shrugged. “And so they did, and her belly is swelling. There’s no need for him to sit there simpering like a French fop. Better to set the Robertson bitch aside since she’s serving her purpose. Ye can be sure I will no’ have a wife sitting on the high ground beside me.”

  His men chuckled. “Aye, a woman’s place is beneath a man,” one of them said.

  Robert nodded. “A real man makes sure they know it.”

  And a true man made his own fortune. Robert emptied his mug and shoved another round of bread into his shirt before closing his doublet. His men took his lead, making ready for the hard road ahead of them.

  “Don’t leave at the same time,” he cautioned them before he stood and made his way toward the back of the hall where the maids were. Robert smiled at them, seeking out one who would give him the information he needed.