Desire in Tartan: 2 (Highland Vampires) (12 page)

Dugald looked up. “Milaird Edgar, are you aware that your lands harbor a tribe of
baobhan-sith
?”

Alice relaxed. The golden-haired man was Edgar, Laird MacReiver, her husband’s foster-nephew.

He shook his head. “Sir, that cannot be the case, as no such fae creatures exist.”

“I saw them,” Alice said. “And they were…very odd. I do not know if they were fae, but they were quite peculiar.” She rubbed her chilled hand on her skirt.

“Milaird Edgar doesnae believe in anything he cannae see, hear or touch.” Dugald stood and brushed off his trews. He seemed quite unharmed. Around the clearing, the Kilburns were rousing themselves, greeting their friends—for the other mounted fellows seemed to be comrades—and seeing to their horses.

“Very wise, sir,” Alice told the MacReiver. “But I assure you, some unnatural creatures attacked us but a few moments ago.”

He dismounted and stretched, his open jacket exposing an immaculate, well-cut shirt that showed off his muscular torso. Alice averted her eyes. She wasn’t attracted to any man but her husband, but the laird’s otherworldly beauty fascinated her. She did not want to give an incorrect impression.

But he’d come closer, and she couldn’t avoid looking into his face. To avoid his gaze would be discourteous. Mother of mercy, those eyes. For a young man, he radiated unusual maturity.

“Mistress, this be Edgar MacReiver, the laird of these lands. And a good friend to the Kilburns. As ye know, he fostered with us. Milaird, my wife, Alice Derwent Kilburn.”

Laird MacReiver’s blue eyes widened.

“Milaird.” Alice bent her head and curtseyed as best she could.

The laird recovered his poise. “Mistress Alice, a pleasant surprise. You are most welcome. Come and stay overnight with us. We will talk of the fae and strange creatures you no doubt met on the road, for our Dugald is forever getting into scrapes.” He quirked a brow at Dugald.

Dugald raised his hands. “Isnae my fault! Ever!”

Laird Edgar laughed and extended a hand to Alice. “Where is your mount?”

Castle MacReiver consisted of a keep set on a slight hill and surrounded by a walled bailey, much of which looked like relatively new construction. The MacReiver men efficiently stabled their mounts while Laird Edgar led their party into the castle through great wooden double doors hinged with beautifully wrought iron. “Your usual room awaits you, sir,” he told Dugald.

Dugald nodded, smiling. Alice gathered that not only were the MacReivers and the Kilburns amicable neighbors, but a special bond existed between Dugald and the young laird.

She followed Dugald through an entrance hall and then up wide, stone steps to a circular room featuring several doorways, also wooden and latched with wrought iron. After entering one of the rooms, he flung himself down on the canopied bed and opened his arms. “Come, wife.”

She went, but found herself stiff in his embrace. After a few fruitless kisses, he raised his head and asked, “What?” He hauled her on top of him, her legs on either side of his torso.

She stared into his calm black eyes. “You know what.”

He sighed and crossed his arms behind his head resting on the pillow. “The
baobhan-sith
.”

“Ba-van-shee.” She tried the Gaelic with hesitance. “Banshee.”

“Aye.”

“I had been told that the banshees are old witches whose presence means someone will die.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “There are many legends about the fae creatures that live in the Highlands. Disregard what Laird Edgar said. He has much knowledge and good sense but lacks the experiences age will provide.”

“I know they exist. I saw them myself. I even hit one and shoved it into the stream.”

“Did ye now? I’m verra proud of ye, wife.” He tried to kiss her again.

She refused to be distracted. “You should be more than proud. That thing was drinking your blood. ‘Twas disgusting…grotesque. But what are they?”

He lay back again with a grunt. “They are fae creatures that live off the blood of the unwary. They prefer men.”

“They seemed to prefer
you
.”

“Mayhap.” His eyes shifted and he seemed to be gazing beyond her into the shadows lingering in the room’s corners.

“They weren’t attacking anyone else. The others seemed to be in a, uh, stupor.”

“I cannae say why.” He sounded evasive.

Alice scrutinized her husband. “Perhaps it’s the nature of your blood. ‘Twas—is—black.” She reached into her sleeve and took out her hanky, which was still stained with a dark, viscous substance. On closer examination, the blood seemed to be a very deep red, not black.

He took it, frowning, then looked into her face. In no mood to be placated, she gave back a hard stare. She wanted the truth.

He sighed. “Ye have noticed, I trow, that we Kilburns are not exactly the same as others.”

“Yes, we have already discussed this.” Impatience sharpened her tone.

“I doonae ken why, but I believe that the differences stem from the blood. Our blood, which is thicker and darker than that of ordinary men and women.”

She frowned. “How can a normal heart beat such blood?”

“I believe our hearts are stronger than most.” His chest rose and fell with another sigh. “’Tis possible that the babes, when still in the womb, are too strong for most females to carry to completion. I fear for ye, mistress. Elsbeth was a strong, strapping woman, and ye are but a slender lass.”

“I’m strong,” Alice said, a trifle offended.

“Aye, I ken that. I’ve seen your strength. But your strength is not of the body but of the mind. The will, mayhap, or the soul.”

“That will have to do, for given our…activities…it is likely I will conceive soon.” She leaned over and kissed him.

Though his arms went around her immediately, he seemed to hold back.

“What?”

“Wife, I must be sure. Ye understand the risks?”

“’Tis a little late now.”

“Aye, I should have told ye before.” He turned his head away. “I was selfish.”

She turned his face toward her with a finger beneath his chin. “P’raps, but I do not regret anything we have done.”

His hands wandered down to her hips and he moved her forward and back on his hardening cock. “That be a change in yer tune from our wedding night.”

“Yes, er…” She was sure her face had started to glow.

“We had fun, did we not?” He squeezed her hip then slapped it.

The spank didn’t sting through her riding skirt, petticoats and long chemise, but nevertheless her cunny began a gentle throb. Tightening her thighs around him, she threw her head back and panted.

He unbuttoned her jacket and the lace-trimmed blouse beneath, exposing her stays, then traced her curves above the chemise.

She closed her eyes and pressed her hands into his shoulders for stability. Her stays loosened and cool air washed over her breasts. He’d evidently untied her stays and tugged down her chemise. Tightening, her nipples tingled. Warmth and wetness surrounded one—Dugald’s mouth? A suckling sensation said she’d guessed aright.

Disliking confinement, she flung away the clothes he’d loosened and tugged her chemise down. She sat atop him naked from the waist up.

“Methinks, my strong and passionate wife, ye’re in severe need of chastisement.”

“Chastisement?” Though she aped the gentle teasing in his voice, excitement unfurled in her belly.

“Aye. Uh…ye were wearing stays. And yer questions are most impertinent,” he told her, eyes twinkling.

“Och. Are they noo?” She imitated his accent.

He gave a faux gasp. “And mocking yer husband. Aye, ye’ve earned a severe spanking. What ye’ve begun, finish. Stand and strip. Take it all off, every stitch.”

Her quim warmed, dampened. She slid off his body and off the bed, feeling her breasts sway. Eyeing Dugald, who was stretched on the bed with a broad smile, she decided to make him wait. Given what had happened that day, he was a deal too smug. A great deal.

She bent over and tugged at one boot without success. She turned her back on her husband and sat on the bed.

A finger tapped on the topmost bone in her neck. She leaned forward and the finger slid down, tracing each bump and dent but ending at her waistband. Dugald gave the cloth a tug. “Why is this still on?” His tone was casual. “Did I not ask you to take off your clothes?”

“Are we in a hurry?”

He slapped her bum. Hard, so she felt it through her clothes. She yelped.

“When your man tells ye to act, act.”

“Yes, sir.” She leaped to her feet to tear at the tapes securing her skirt and petticoats. When she was naked she stood, panting with exertion, for she had rushed.

He crooked a finger, and she came closer, so close that she could feel his breaths puff over her naked belly. “Verra nice.” He leaned forward and with the same crooked finger, felt her channel. The digit slipped in and out with ease, and she closed her eyes to better enjoy the sensation.

“Open yer eyes. Look at me when I make love to ye.” That maddening finger continued its work.

She gasped slightly. “I thought I was to be punished. Sir.”

“Ye thought correctly, but when I choose, and not a moment before.” He withdrew his finger and, using both hands, gripped her hips. One finger entered the crevice between her bottom-cheeks. She squirmed.

He slapped her bum with the other hand. “Stay still.” The finger wiggled deeper until it found her back hole.

She closed her eyes.

“I said, open your eyes.”

“I…I can’t, I can’t, this is too…” She was sure her cheeks resembled the setting sun. They certainly felt as hot.

He slapped her again, and it hurt. “Too what?”

“Too…embarrassing.”

He laughed. “Mistress, the time for embarrassment between us has long passed. Turn around and bend over. And keep your eyes open, every second. I can see ye in the mirror and I’ll ken if ye disobey.”

She obeyed, limbs shaking, and set her palms on her thighs for support. She found herself staring at her reflection in a cheval mirror set opposite, with Dugald’s black-clad knees the only part of him visible. The situation was nerve-racking enough without having to watch herself, but she hadn’t a choice.

She did not know the woman reflected in the glass. The flushed face topped by disheveled hair. Her breasts hanging full, more prominent due to her bent-over position. Her nipples, hard and red from his repeated attentions.

“Open yer legs.”

She did what she was told, and Dugald shifted and drew her closer so that his thighs were between hers, parting hers when he spread his legs. She could feel his warm breaths puffing over her arse, was aware that her naked, wet cunny was in his face, her most private flesh visible to his ardent stare.

Dugald’s hand reached through her spread thighs. Long fingers caressed her mound.

She’d never imagined such a sight—not with her or any other woman—but ‘twas so shocking, so erotic, that she could barely stand.

His thumb slipped into her trembling, pulsating slit and pushed. She started to close her eyes then jerked the lids open.

He laughed. “Good lassie.”

She bristled. She wasn’t a dog or a horse, but he was addressing her as though she were an animal. She shot him a glare using the mirror.

He slapped her bottom with his free hand while his thumb worked inside her arse and his palm massaged her most sensitive spots. She shuddered, a dark desire overtaking her. Her bottom stung, her cunny wept for his cock and her bottom-hole… She didn’t know quite what she felt there. She couldn’t understand why such a maddening feeling should be so arousing, but it was, and she wanted it. She wanted him.

The thought that she wanted his cock up her back hole was shocking and she staggered. Her sway brought renewed sensations.

He abruptly stopped touching her and her back channel stung from the quick withdrawal of his thumb. She craned her neck to see what he was doing.

He was unlacing his trews. She had only a moment to prepare herself before he grabbed her hips and forced her cunny down onto his cock. The delightful feeling of fullness was combined with some shock, relief and even a little regret. She wanted him to take her arse, she realized to her shame, but was not sure she was ready for such a large object thrust into such a tight, tiny place.

She wiggled to accustom herself to this new position. He pushed her shoulders forward, which felt even better, then reached around to finger her folds, searching for the little nubbin of flesh hiding inside. Finding it, he rubbed, and sparkles of pleasure raced around her body. Holding his knees for stability, she dragged herself back and forth, his cock impossibly large and heavy inside her.

His hand came off her shoulder and slid down to her breasts, pinching the nipples lightly then slapping the swinging orbs. He started with light caresses and taps before escalating to smacks and spanks that left her flesh hot and quivering and the rest of her body jerking spasmodically, desperate for release. She ground her cunny into him and pushed herself against his hand, moaning.

He stopped, then cupped her breasts and squeezed. Rapture overwhelmed her and her moans rose in pitch. She wanted to close her eyes to see the shimmering colors that always welcomed her climax, but didn’t dare.

He gripped her hips and stood, his rod surging deeper into her clenching, grasping channel. She rested her palms on the wood planking beneath her as he raised and lowered her. She could feel his fingers digging into her as he moved her this way and that for his pleasure, but didn’t mind.

Head drooped, she closed her eyes, sure he couldn’t see, what with her hair tumbling over and hiding her face. Focusing on the heat and tingling inside her cunny, she let herself float into oblivion.

“Ye closed your eyes, didn’t ye?”

Alice awakened to find herself face down, stretched out on the bed next to her husband, who was idly playing with strands of her hair. Occasionally he’d slide cool fingertips down her spine and burrow into the crevice between her bottom-cheeks, which felt damp and sticky. His seed?

She wasn’t going to answer that question. ‘Twould be foolish. Instead she said, “You seem quite interested in my bum, sir.”

“Answer me question.” He slapped her lightly, which didn’t sting.

“I, er, I…”

He spanked her harder, which did sting. “Answer. Now.”

“Um, yes.”

“Well, well, well.” Each word was punctuated by a slap. “Ye do ken that you must obey your husband, do ye not?”

She gasped. “Ye-es, I do.”

“And yet, ye closed your eyes when I specifically told you ‘no’.” Another six slaps, delivered briskly, three on each cheek.

“Ow!” The spanks stung and heat bloomed, sinking toward her quim.

He set both palms on her and squeezed. She moaned and wriggled. She shoved one hand beneath her, questing for her bump.

“That’s right,
kylyrra
. Play with yerself… This stirs ye, does it not?”