How to Handle a Highlander Page 23

  “Are ye going to order me to behave?” She pulled her hands back down to his knees and then stroked up farther. “Of course ye are nae me husband, and I find being a widow quite merry.”

  One dark eyebrow rose. “Merry?”

  He stood and scooped her off her feet. In another moment, he was spinning around with her held tight against his chest. The blood rushed past her ears, making a roaring sound as her body tightened with excitement. He finally stopped and tossed her onto the bed.

  “Would ye be merry if I left ye to yer widow’s bed?”

  She rolled over and flung her hair back. She laughed, and the sound surprised her, because it was husky and sultry. On all fours she faced him, feeling more alive than she could ever recall.

  “A merry widow can play the games of a lover.”

  “So can husband and wife, Moira.”

  He opened his belt and caught his kilt before it slipped down to the floor. He tossed it onto the table with a practiced motion.

  “Neither of us knows what marriage truly is,” she said as she sat back on her heels. “Yet I know I want no more of the falseness that was my last marriage.”

  He pulled his shirt up and over his head, baring his body to her. His chest was covered in dark hair, the muscles hard and defined. His chest tapered down into a lean waist and hips. His cock stood out proudly, the head ruby red. Her cheeks flushed, but she realized it wasn’t with shame, it was with anticipation.

  She was exactly where she wanted to be.

  He started to move toward her, but she held up her hand. He froze, waiting on her whim. There was something in his eyes that pleased her, a flicker of expectation that filled her with confidence. He was waiting for her to please him. Not because he demanded it of her, but because she wanted to be his lover.

  She eased up her chemise, baring her thighs. His dark gaze settled on the naked skin, his lips thinning as she tugged the fabric higher. Her heart was beating hard but not racing. It felt deeper, more sensual than any experience she’d ever had. She paused with the fabric just covering her mons.

  “Now I know ye’re teasing me,” he groaned.

  “Aye,” she admitted before raising the chemise all the way up and letting it fall to the surface of the bed. “But only because I want to be yer lover, nae just yer conquest.”

  “Those can be one and the same, lass.”

  His voice was so deep it almost sounded like he was purring. A promise was brewing in his eyes, and need began to twist her insides. He moved toward her, placing his hands on her thighs and stroking her the same way she had him. She gasped, the contact between their flesh sending ripples of awareness through her.

  “A lover returns the favors given…” He leaned down and kissed one puckered nipple. Sensation jolted her as he crawled farther up the bed.

  She had to lean back, far back until she was lying on the bed. A pleased grin split his lips and he captured the same nipple and sucked it hungrily. She’d never realized a man’s mouth might be so warm. It was searing and set her insides to boiling. Her clit was throbbing for attention, desire ripping through the teasing mood she’d been in. She reached for him, but he lifted away from her, his eyes burning.

  “Nae just yet, lass…” He gripped her knees and spread her thighs. “I seem to recall ye tormenting me with yer sweet lips.”

  He was going to make her wait for it though. First, he stroked her, cupping her breasts and petting her belly with motions so slow she found it hard to remain still. Every inch of her skin began clamoring for contact. She didn’t want to keep her eyes open either. It was like her sight interfered with her body feeling everything it might. She closed her eyes and arched into his touch, a tiny moan escaping her lips when he stopped just above her mons. He rubbed her belly, making a small circle that drove her mad with frustration. Anticipation was heightening all of her senses, intensifying every single touch.

  “Ye are beautiful, Moira.” He leaned down and kissed her belly. “I do nae think I have told ye how fair ye are.”

  She opened her eyes and gasped when she watched him shift his attention to her mons. He toyed with her curls for a moment before leaning down to kiss her clitoris.

  “Holy mother of Christ!” she swore as she jerked. She didn’t really gain any distance, because the hand he had resting on her belly pressed her down to the surface of the bed.

  “Now who is bringing Christ into inappropriate moments?” he teased her.

  “Well, I did nae expect ye to kiss me…there.”

  He settled his thumb on the spot he’d kissed, working it back and forth until the folds of her slit parted to allow him to touch her clitoris.

  “Ye licked me cock.” There wasn’t a hint of shame in his tone. No, in fact there was the definite ring of promise.

  “Ye cannae mean to…” Her mouth went dry, and her tongue refused to finish her thought.

  “I swear there is nothing that could tear me away.”

  Her eyes remained wide as he lowered his head and made good on his promise. She bucked again, the level of heat almost too much to bear. It was searing and intense. She’d never felt so much sensation, except for when he was inside her. She craved the man in an unnatural manner. She clawed at the bedding, searching for something to hold onto as it felt like the world was spinning out of control. She arched up to press herself against his mouth, seeking enough pressure to unleash the explosion she felt brewing in her depths.

  But he denied her. Instead he lapped her gently, flicking her clitoris with the tip of his tongue before trailing it through the center of her slit to the opening of her body.

  “Ye are sweeter than cream…”

  Every inch of her skin felt like it was on fire; perspiration even moistened her hair. He licked his way back to the top of her slit, this time closing his lips around the little button nestled there. It was almost enough…And yet release remained maddeningly out of reach. She growled as her frustration reached the point where she was sure to go mad.

  “Stop toying with me, Gahan!” she panted.

  “And do what instead?” His voice was hard with demand. She locked gazes with him, seeing the man she’d battled against the first few times they’d met. “Do ye want me to tumble ye quickly and leave before we’re discovered?” He rose above her, crawling up the bed and trapping her with his huge body. “Or do ye want something more?” He settled himself between her thighs, the head of his cock slipping easily between her slick folds.

  She held him, clamping her thighs around his hips as she gripped his shoulders. But he didn’t thrust into her, didn’t fill the emptiness threatening to make her scream.

  “Swear ye’ll wed me, Moira.”

  She slapped his shoulder and snarled. “Blackguard! To demand such a thing once ye’ve made it near impossible for me to think.”

  “Oh, I demand it, lass.” His voice was hard, like his body. He thrust into her, filling her passage with a quick motion that sent the air rushing out of her lungs. “I want to demand ye welcome me into yer bed, every night as ye are now.”

  He pulled free and thrust in again, quickly. The bed rocked with the force of his motion, and she raised her hips to take it.

  “I demand that ye let the world know I am what ye crave…” The bed ropes creaked as he continued to ride her with a hard pace. “I demand ye never let yerself be at the mercy of that half brother of yers…”

  Pleasure was tearing through her, but so was the need to make her own demands heard. She lodged her feet on the surface of the bed and heaved. She shoved him over onto his back and rose above him. He growled with satisfaction as he lifted her above his cock and impaled her on it.

  “Well…I demand that ye stop risking yer position,” she said.

  He guided her up and down. It didn’t take long for her to learn the rhythm. She was suddenly in complete control of their pace, yet still at the mercy of her desire. They were both caught in the same web.

  “Me position means naught if it makes me a coward.
I’ll speak up and face the consequences me words bring.”

  He bucked beneath her and flipped her back over. His pace quickened, giving her the final amount of friction she needed to explode in rapture. She forgot to breathe and didn’t care that her lungs burned. She was caught in the moment of twisting, wringing pleasure that touched every fiber of her being. Gahan ground his length into her, and she heard him snarl as his seed erupted into her womb. It was searing hot, setting off another wave of delight.

  The bed became a trusted ally against the fatigue that settled over her. Her muscles were lax and exhausted. Her heart still pounded in hard motions even as it slowed. She felt light-headed, and her eyes closed as the room spun in a lazy circle. And she did not care. Not a bit.

  Gahan gathered her close, rolling over onto his back and placing her head on his shoulder. She listened to the sound of his heartbeat as she savored the moment.

  “Ye’ll wed me, Moira.”

  He stroked her shoulder and hugged her tight. For the moment, everything was perfect.

  ***

  Sunlight streamed through the windows, since the shutters had never been shut. Moira stretched, sighing.

  “I am going to enjoy being wed to ye, lass.”

  Her eyes opened wide, and she sat up. The bedding slipped down her body, allowing the morning air to tease her bare breasts. Gahan’s eyes settled on her puckering nipples.

  “I’m going to enjoy it very, very much.”

  “Ye are still here.”

  Gahan was already on his feet and wearing his shirt. He was enjoying a thick slice of bread and cheese left from the meal they’d never touched.

  “Gahan, ye must nae place yerself at risk for me.”

  One of his dark eyebrows rose. “Ye are in more danger of being gossiped about by being seen with me, lass. After all, yer kin are accusing me of crimes.”

  She stood up and found her chemise. “Lies.” She sat down and pulled on her stockings, because the floor was chilled from the night. “I think Bari believes them, and that is what worries me. At times, I think I see madness in his eyes.”

  Now that her feet were no longer freezing, her belly rumbled. Gahan grinned and offered her some bread and cheese. The meal was simple, but she enjoyed the moment.

  “What is that look for?” he asked. “Ye appear so forlorn.”

  “I fear reality is going to destroy this fine moment.”

  He stood and lifted the ends of his belt. His plaid was already pleated, and he secured it around his waist. “I welcome it, lass. It’s time Bari’s hold over ye was broken.”

  He was bold and determined, just as he’d been the first time she’d seen him. But instead of being intimidated by it, she rose and lifted his doublet off the chair. She held it up for him, easing it up his shoulders then fastening the buttons. Today, she was his comrade.

  “I will wed ye, Gahan Sutherland, and I will be proud to say it to anyone.”

  Approval showed in his eyes. He cupped her face, rubbing it gently. “That pleases me, lass, more than I can say.”

  He wasn’t a man who praised lightly. He was a Highlander and respected strength. Pride surged through her, because she realized she had defeated Bari in the only way that mattered—by making her own decisions and determining her own fate.

  “I love ye, Gahan Sutherland, no matter what the future holds.”

  She turned and picked up the bodice she’d worn the day before. Pinned to the shoulder was a small length of Matheson plaid. She pulled the pin loose and let the fabric flutter to the floor. There was a soft tearing sound as Gahan tore a strip of his plaid. He offered it to her, and she pinned it in place. For just a moment, his eyes glistened, but it was so brief, she just might have imagined it.

  “I love ye, Moira, and I pledge ye me strength and me name for as long as I live.”

  It was a vow heard in the Highlands for longer than anyone remembered—far longer than the vows spoken in the church. They were the words of the Highlands and the warriors who lived by the code of honor.

  Someone knocked on the door, and it opened wide. Gahan offered her one last look before he turned to face what fate had in store for him. She intended to face it at his side.

  Nine

  “You have disobeyed me.” King James IV sat sternly on his throne, but Gahan was looking him straight in the eye.

  “Ye did nae order me to stay away from her, Yer Majesty.” Gahan held up his hand in protest, adding, “And if ye had, I would be guilty of disobeying ye, for there is no way I was going to let her spend the night unprotected.”

  “Do you question the readiness of His Majesty’s guards?” Lord Home burst out.

  Gahan chuckled and stared at the velvet curtain the man hid behind. There was a soft snort before he came into view.

  “Ye do nae yet accept what I tell ye of her kin, Yer Majesty,” Gahan explained. “Moira will be me wife, and I will never let harm touch her. Even if it means ye are displeased.”

  Lord Home’s face darkened. “How dare you speak to your king like that?”

  “If ye want coddling and empty words of praise, I suggest ye summon Bari and his sister. I am a Highlander and a Sutherland. Ye’ll hear the truth from me lips, no matter what it costs me.”

  “The vow of the knights of the crusades,” the king muttered thoughtfully.

  “And the Knights Templar.”

  The king’s eyes brightened. “Is there any proof that the knights of that holy order settled in the Highlands?”

  Gahan said, “Highlanders are nae like other men. We do nae accept defeat, and we do nae follow the undeserving. I fought for yer right to sit on that throne, and I’m ready to have ye decide this matter, but I will nae stand aside while me wife is left unprotected.”

  “She is not your wife,” Lord Home argued.

  Gahan smiled, but the expression wasn’t pleasant. It promised Lord Home hell if the man was foolish enough to try him.

  “She’s wearing me colors this morning,” Gahan informed them. “That’s me bond and has been tradition in the Highlands longer than any of us recalls. It insults me for ye to claim I have nae honored her.”

  “I accept your reason,” the king said clearly. “Wearing of your colors is a Highland tradition older than time.”

  Gahan nodded, hearing the man inside the boy.

  A page wearing the royal colors approached from the side entrance. He lowered himself. The king gave him leave to rise, but the young man looked at Lord Home and didn’t move until Lord Home had also gestured for him to rise.

  The young king didn’t miss the slight.

  “The Earl of Sutherland is here,” the boy said.

  The king gestured to the guards at the door. They pulled the doors open, revealing Lytge and Norris Sutherland. They both gave the king a respectful tug on the corner of their bonnets before walking through the doorway.

  “Summon Laird Fraser and his sister,” the king commanded. “We shall have an end to this.”

  ***

  “That has gained attention.” Nareen Grant smiled sweetly, but her green eyes were full of mischief as she tapped the pin on Moira’s shoulder with a delicate fingertip.

  “I believe Gahan intended it to.”

  A soft tinkle of laughter passed Nareen’s lips. “It is sometimes a challenge to understand Highlanders, even when we are both women of the same land.”

  Moira smiled. “Indeed it is.”

  “And ye are pleased?”

  Moira nodded. “Me half brother sees me as a commodity, and me half sister would be a murderess.”

  “Most brothers see sisters in that light.” Nareen was lost in thought for a moment. “Come, walk with me. Ye cannae appear concerned. That will nae do, nae for the wife of a Highlander.”

  They began to slowly stroll through the palace hallways. There was splendor everywhere she looked, but none of it pleased her. Behind those gilded doors, her fate was being decided. Time crawled by, tormenting her. Yet there was nothing to do but w
ait.

  ***

  “The accusations Laird Fraser makes are grievous.” Lord Home spoke firmly inside the king’s receiving room. He aimed a hard look at the Frasers and Sutherlands standing in front of the king.

  Lytge cocked his head to the side. “Well, it’s good to know I did nae ride all the way down here for naught.” He glared at Bari Fraser. “Even if I find it interesting that this man just swore his loyalty to me.”

  “I was trying to find me sister,” Bari argued.

  “Ye did nae know yer sister was still living.”

  “Enough,” Lord Home said. “His Majesty will ask the questions.”

  The earl looked back at the king. For a moment, James looked too young to deal with the formidable men in the room.

  The king drew in a deep breath and looked at Lytge. “Why did you imprison Sandra Fraser at Dunrobin?”

  “Me sons locked her away until I recovered from the poison she applied to the inside of me cup. Life has a way of being dear when ye’ve almost felt it slip through yer fingers. I did nae order her hanged because I was feeling soft. It’s nae in me to kill women.”

  “It was because ye knew I was innocent,” Sandra protested.

  “As innocent as Lucifer,” Gahan growled.

  “Be silent, bastard,” Bari snarled.

  The king slapped the arm of his chair. “The next person who speaks without being asked a question shall be removed to the dungeons.”

  “I brought ye something, Yer Majesty,” Lytge said, opening a small bundle. “This is the hair ornament young Sandra there wore at me table. Ye’ll see it opens to reveal a well for poison. Everyone knew it was hers, and I believe if ye show it to some of yer other nobles, they will identify it as hers as well.”

  The king took the small hairpin. It looked like a spring flower, but the center opened, revealing its evil purpose. It was made of gold, with pearls set into it. A jeweler had spent many hours creating it.

  “You have given me a good suggestion, Laird Sutherland. I will see if anyone can identify the owner of this.” The king handed it to Lord Home.

  “Nae many will speak against the Sutherlands,” Bari argued.