Dark Side of the Laird (Highland Bound) (9 page)

Again he drew in a ragged breath, compelling me to implore him once more to tell me what weighed heavy on his heart. But before I could utter the words, his lips captured mine and he pressed his naked hips against me. The heat of his flesh seared a path through my clothes and I was suddenly desperate to be out of them.

I’d noticed more and more often that our lovemaking wasn’t so much about lessons, about the struggle for power and acceptance, but more about connection. About joining together and sharing. About being one.

Maybe that was the lesson. How to give in to each other.

Logan tugged at my gown, his fingers sliding easily through the ties, loosening it until he could ease it over my shoulders, down my arms and leave it slack at my waist. His warm palm covered my breast, only the thin chemise I wore separating us now. My nipple was already puckered from anticipation, but now it fairly bulged with the need to feel him stroke it with his tongue.

And then he was wrenching it away, the delicate fabric shredding with his
determination.

I reached a leg around his, hooking it behind his knee, trying as I might to get his cock closer to my clit, where I loved to feel his hardness stroke.

I moaned. “I want you so bad.”

“Ye have no idea.”

“Will anyone come down?”

“Nay, I told Cook I needed to speak with ye privately.”

“But—”

“Shh… If they come, then they can wa
tch. They can see me lick your quim.”

And with that, he dropped to his knees and cold air wafted over my ankles and calves as he lifted my gown over his head and disappeared.

I pressed my back to the wall, hands digging into the plaster as his hot mouth hovered over my wet and quivering sex. My netherlips pulsed, clit twinged, every nerve-ending on fire with excitement.

I dug my hands into his hair as he parted my folds with his fingers and then put his tongue on me. A long, heady, slow stroke from the opening of my sex to the very top, where he swirled around my clit as though I were a melting ice cream cone.

“Oh, God,” I gasped.

“Uh-uh,” I heard him murmur, the sound of his voice vibrating deliciously against my over-sensitized flesh. “Oh, Logan.”

I spread my thighs wider and canted my hips forward. “Oh, Logan,” I murmured.

“Aye, lass, oh me.”

He tantalized me with that tongue, making me breathless, hot and sweaty. I could barely hold up my weight on my legs, and thanked heaven for the strength of the wall behind me.

Torrents of pleasure rocked me. He drew on my clit, sucking, making it pulse and then scraped his teeth over it before flattening his tongue and stroking in quick short bursts before sucking again. It was a new pattern, designed to torment me. To bring me close to the edge, and draw it out.

“Dinna finish, lass, dinna dare.”

My breath hitched and I held it, squeezing my eyes shut and forcing myself not to come when every second I was closer and closer to bursting. Suck, scrape, stroke. Suck, scrape, stroke. I moaned, whimpered, gasped, never truly drawing in a breath.

“Now, baby, now,” he murmured, stroking fast with the flat of his tongue and thrusting his fingers inside me, pumping hard.

There was no question, I was there, ready for it and I sparked, firing off an orgasm that was so strong I lurched forward, unable to cont
rol the convulsions of my body. He continued his tormenting licks until every last wave subsided, and then he stood, whipped me around and yanked up the back of my gown. I gasped. My bare nipples scraped against the rough wall as he pushed me against it, growling with that feral, masculine sound that made my sex quiver anew.

He slapped me
hard on the ass and I groaned, hips automatically bucking backward, between my thighs dripping and clenching, waiting.

I felt him drag his cock through the crack of my ass. He pressed the tip to the opening of my sex and
I tried to press back, to feel him slide inside me, but he pulled back an inch, uttering, “Not yet.”

Biting my lip, I waited on bated breath for what was to come. Suddenly my back was cold as he moved away from me,
but I couldn’t move, felt glued to the plastered wall, its harsh surface scraping my sensitive flesh. He dragged something closer. What was it?

And then his hand was stroking up my thigh, his fingers pressing deep into the tissue.

“Put your leg up,” he demanded, his fingers curling beneath my knee.

I lifted my foot, putting it on top of the barrel he’d pulled near us. He stepped behind me again, fingers
tickling over my clit and I groaned.

“Ye’re so damn wet.” Logan pressed his thick, hard cock against me again. “Do ye know how fucking delicious that is?”

I whimpered, unable to say anything intelligible, as all I could think about was him pounding hard into me from behind.

He grabbed hold of my hip with one hand and pulled me back as he guided the tip of his shaft to my opening.

“Please,” I begged.

Lips pressed to my ear he said, “Ye want me to fuck ye?”

“Yes.”

“Hard?”

“Yes.”

“Put me inside ye.”

I reached between my thighs, barely able to grip his cock in my hand, and I guided it toward me, pressing the tip inside, feeling the rim of my sex stretch to accommodate him. My eyes rolled back as I moaned, pushed back with my hips and feeling his cock slide from my fingers and inside my body.

“Fuck me,” he demanded.

Hands pressed to the wall, I pushed back, canted my pelvis forward. He stood still behind me, his hands on my hips, teeth scraping my neck.

“Fuck me hard, Emma,” he growled.

I eagerly obliged, rocking back and forth with fury, my body squeezing tight to him.

“I want ye to feel my cock going in and out of ye.”

“How?” I managed to utter between moans.

“Touch yourself. Rub yourself and as ye do it, slid your fingers lower, slipping them around my cock. Feel me move within ye.”

I lowered my hand back to my clit, unable to help circling it, stroking it, then lower, until I felt his cock moving in and out of me, slippery and velvet hard. Spreading my fingers wide, I pushed back, his cock sliding in and out from between my pointer and middle finger as he fucked me and I touched myself.

It was more than I could handle, and I cried out as an orgasm tore through me unexpectedly.

“Naughty, Emma,” he murmured, biting my earlobe, and slapping my ass.

I shuddered, and even though I’d just come, I felt my body begin to stir again, readying itself for more pleasure.

He kissed me on my back, his tongue drawing circles over one shoulder blade and then another.

“Do ye want to come again?” he asked.

I nodded, then realized he probably couldn’t see me in the dark. “Yes.”

“Make yourself come again.” He tapped lightly over my ribs until he reached the side of my breast and then he cupped it, pinching my nipple. “I want to feel you come on my tongue.”

He dropped behind me, pressed his face to my backside, his tongue thrusting inside my cunt, his hands gripping hard to my ass.

I was beyond reason. Beyond everything except immense pleasure. I stroked myself harder, my fingers making circles around and around my clit, up and down, sliding back to feel his tongue inside me, then back to my clit, and then he slicked his tongue upward, rimming around the star between my ass cheeks and I jerked forward, the sensation all together
euphoric and so wickedly, forbidden. Oh, I was a naughty girl. And I liked it. Liked it too much, and suddenly as he was licking my ass, I was fingering myself frantically, pushing in and out and then sliding up to rub my clit. Sensing my desperate need, Logan replaced my fingers with his own, plunging them deep as he continued to stroke his tongue over that forbidden part of me, leaving me to rub my clit in glorious panicked swirls.

This time when I came, a scream tore from my throat and I convulsed violently, legs buckling. Logan caught me, holding me where he wanted me, and then he was thrusting inside me. Not waiting for me to recover, but his cock tormenting me all the more. I was on fire, like lava, melting and completely destroyed.

He fucked me hard, fast and I could barely hold against the wall as he rode me, and he, too, was crying out, plunging deeper as he orgasmed.

Neither of us moved, both so consumed by the power of our sex. By the sheer intensity of it.

And then he spoke, his voice hoarse. “I’m going to miss ye.”

I shivered, feeling a deep-seated fear at his words. Come the morning, he would be gone.

Chapter Nine

Emma

I
slept like the dead.

I
woke, startled by sounds coming from outside, forgetting momentarily where I was—and what era. I was disoriented, light-headed. I glanced to the right, finding Logan’s side of the bed empty. Where had he gone? Judging from the small amount of light coming from the window, it couldn’t be much past dawn.

I managed to climb from
bed, feet hitting the icy ground. I shivered, rubbing my arms to keep warm and stumbled toward the window. I stubbed my toe on a chair and let out a string of curses in Gaelic that I’d heard Logan mutter when he’d done the same thing. We really ought to move the damn thing, or else our toes would be mangled by the end of year.

That brought a smile to my face and the memories of the past months full force to mind.
I’d never been happier.

And then, just like that, my smile faded, replaced by a sour feeling in my belly, and a dryness to my tongue. Logan was leaving today. For as long as three weeks.

An eternity.

I
groaned and peeled back the fur covering the window, feeling the draft through the wooden slats. I opened the wooden shutter, shivering at the chill and gazed down at the courtyard.

Men ran to and fro, piling bags on horses, and women stuffed the bags full of supplies. Warriors stood in the center, armed to the teeth and awaiting their laird.

Would he leave without saying goodbye? A cursory glance around the courtyard did not show him to be present. I scurried back to the bed and pressed my hand to the rumpled sheets where he’d lain. Cold.

He’d been gone awhile.
Knowing Logan, he probably barely slept.

With the castle in this much of an uproar, he was bound to be leaving
within the hour. The very thought sent a shiver of dread through me. My already frozen limbs, fingers and toes dropped another ten degrees, as if my blood refused to flow when we were parted. I hurried to my wardrobe, pulling out a gown, my cloak and boots, and then struggled into them.

Going on six months wasn’t nearly enough time to become acquainted with the clothing.
I feared I might always need a little help in the dressing department. Knowing what was coming, if I ever had to go to court where the king presided, I’d be sewn into my clothes. Stiff, thick fabrics encrusted with jewels. I crinkled my nose, feeling uncomfortable already. Being at the castle, working side by side with the people, cuddling up with Logan, those things came easy. But court? A royal court with all those pompous people? I shook my head. That, I was not ready for.

I bent over, tugging the last boot over my heel when the door between our rooms slid open and Logan stepped through. I looked up at him, forgetting all about the laces on my boot and ran toward him. He held out his arms, cat
ching me against his solid form. His clothes were cold, but the warmth of his body seeped through. He smelled crisp and cool like the outdoors, mixed with his own spicy scent.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” I said.

“I know it, love. If only we could turn back the clock. I’d have insisted on the king taking Isabella with him. Or even sent a missive telling him not to come.”

I shook my head and looked up at him
, studying every line and plane on his rugged and devilishly handsome face. “I’m not sure that would have done any good. The king had it in his mind to come here, and who he’d bring. What could you have done? You wouldn’t have run from him, or abandoned your people.”

Logan glanced down at me, stroking his thumb across my cheek. “Nay, lass, but I would have married ye the moment ye agreed to be my lover.”

I buried my face in his chest, gripping tight to his linen shirt and breathing in his scent, burning it in my memory.

“I’ve put you in danger,” I said. “The king…”

“Shh.” He stroked his hands on my back, comforting me in the cocoon of his embrace. “The king will not harm me.”

“I know but—”

He gripped my shoulders and pulled me back as he bent toward me, so we were face to face. “Do ye recall what ye said yesterday in the storeroom?”

Ummm… yes. And none of it had anything to do with him leaving. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks.

“Not that, lass,” he laughed. “Ye said that together we would get through this, and ye were right. Trust me. Trust us.”

“I do.
” I chewed on my lower lip, glancing down at the way his shirt opened, revealing just a splash of tan, muscled chest. “But, Logan, I’m not an idiot. The king will do whatever he wants and from what you’ve said he can be a vindictive man. What if he takes offense to what you want? What if he demands you stay there and he comes to fetch Isabella? What if he decides he’s had enough of his secret brother and…and…” I couldn’t even bring myself to say the words.

Logan frowned, the muscle in his jaw ticking. When he spoke, his voice was deadly calm and serious. “I swear by all that is holy that I will not marry that woman. Ye are the only one for me. No matter what she says, what she does, or what the king decries, she will
not
be my wife.”

By the end of his little tirade, his teeth were bared and he looked off into the distance as if contemplating some
deadly obstacle.

I was getting him riled up and angry. Not the way I wanted to part with him. I wanted our last moments together
, before three torturous weeks began, to be pleasant and memorable.

“I’m going to miss you.” I wrapped my arms around his middle and laid my head on his chest. “The bed will be so cold without you to curl up against.”

He chuckled, his chest rumbling against my ear. “Is that all ye think I’m good for? Warming your toes?”

I giggled. “And my hands.”

Logan stroked a heavy hand up and down my back, curled his finger around a tendril of my hair. “The time will fly. I promise. Just think about what’s to come. And if anything…” He trailed off as though he, too, didn’t want to travel down that path again.

“Tell me. We should leave no questions unanswered.”

“If ye find yourself to be in danger, for any reason, hide in the secret chamber.”

“
The
secret chamber?” I shuddered. I’d not been back to that dank, decrepit place since Logan showed me the doors. The doors that could lead to death or life.

“Aye. That chamber. No one will find ye ther
e, unless they know of the door, and even then… There are places to hide.”

I smirked. “Yeah, and I might never come out again.”

“I need to give ye something.”

He pulled away and reached into his left boot, pulling out the special dirk he’d shown
me before, with the hilt carved from a deer’s antler. Twisting it open, Logan once more revealed the iron key to the doors in the secret chamber.

“This key is verra important. It means everything to me.”

I shook my head and took a step back. “Then please don’t give it to me. I can’t be in charge of it. What if I lose it?”

“Ye won’t lose it.” Logan said it like it was a statement, a fact. So confident was he that I’d not dare lose it.
“’Tis important, Emma, that ye listen to me verra carefully.”

He gazed intently into my eyes, making the pit of my stomach churn.

“Guard this with your life. Whoever has the key is the Guardian of Gealach.”

I shook my head violently. “No, no, no. I don’t want it. I can’t.” There was no way on God’s green earth, or hell’s high water that I was going to take on the role he requested of me. “I just can’t, Logan. I’m not strong like you. I don’t know how to take care of people. Before I came here I could barely take care of myself. You can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

Panic made me tremble and my stomach suddenly felt like it was on fire. Another step had me wobbling as my boot lace caught under my foot.

“Emma—”

“What is it you fear will happen while you’re gone? What has possessed you to give me this key? This duty?” I hated that my voice shook, that I was suddenly so weak in front of him.

“Emma, love.” He pulled me in roughly, kissed me on the forehead and then held me at arm’s length again. “Ye can do this. ’Tis not that I fear something will happen to me. I have every intention of returning to you, and as swiftly as I can. But this key”—he held it up in front of my eyes—“is the key to the castle. The key to everything. Ye know how much MacDonald wants to get his hands on it.”

“Precisely why you should have it.” I raised my hands a little. Exasperated. “I mean, you are much stronger than me. I’m going to be here alone with that hellish woman. She could take it from me.”

“Ye won’t let her.”

“How can you be sure? My room has been broken into before. What’s to say it’s not broken into again? Maybe she’ll decide to ransack it the moment you leave.”

“Ye will keep the key on ye. Just as I have kept it on me. Never leave the room without it. Let the key burn its place against ye, so that ye may never be without it.”

I shook my head again, fearing more the great responsibility of holding the key, rather than any harm that could come to me from holding it. “What if it falls out of my boot?”

Logan looked at me seriously, his brows drawn together in concentration.
“Ye will strap it to your thigh.”

“My thigh?” This was the stuff of westerns when saloon dollies and gun
-slinging women holstered pistols to their thighs amidst their garters. That wasn’t me.

“Aye, sit.”

But, maybe, I had to become that woman if I was going to survive here.

Logan led me over to the chair, nudging me to sit in it. He knelt before me and took my foot up onto his bent knee. W
ith slow, measured movements he slid the skirt of my gown and chemise up over my thigh, revealing my flesh to his gaze. I was suddenly hot. Overcome with need, and his face was only a foot away from my sex, which was nearly drenched. I was certain he could sense my desire, smell it as he breathed deep.

He grinned at me, wicked intent in his eyes. “Wish that I did not have to leave. I’d fuck ye in this chair.”

My breath caught and I nodded. “I’d like that.”

Logan cleared his throat and stood, walking over
to the wardrobe and rummaging through it and then disappearing through our joined doorway into his own chamber. He quickly returned with a leather strap and I was swiftly reminded of how he’d tied me to his bed and made love to me, and also of how much I wanted him to do that again. To feel the leather around my wrists and know I couldn’t touch him, that I had to surrender to him. I squirmed in the chair, parted my legs so that when he knelt before me again he could see the folds of my sex glistening.

One of the best medieval ideals—no underwear. Forget thongs and sheer, lacy panties. Here, I wore nothing and it was hotter than hell. When I could feel myself getting wet, the heat of it slick and sexy against my thighs, it made me all the hotter.

Logan licked his lips, staring now at the view I’d given him. “Ye’re a tease, lass.”

“I’m only showing you how much I want you.” I flicked my gaze toward his belt. “Want to show me how much you want me
?”

He groaned.

I leaned forward, loving when he let me play the seductress. I reached my hand down and grabbed hold of his thick cock through the fabric of his plaid.

God, I wanted him.

“Just once before you leave,” I begged. “It won’t take long.” I patted the arm of the chair. “We can do it right here.”

Logan stood so abruptly I nearly upended the chair. He pulled me up and turned, sitting where I’d been. He flipped his kilt out of the way, revealing his length in all its vibrant glory. Long, hard, a vein traveling up the middle to meet at the tip of his engorged head. A drop of pre-cum glistened the tip. “Lift your gown.”

I lifted up the gown around my hips and stepped forward. He scooted to the edge of the chair and then grabbed hold of my hips, effortlessly lifting me until I straddled him. He held me aloft a minute, allowing me to grab hold of his thick shaft and position him at my opening, and then he yanked me down, thrusting his hips upward at the same time.