Highland Moon #1 (BBW Scottish Werewolf / Shifter Romance) (5 page)

I swallowed my fear and crept down the hall. No sound permeated the thick door of the room beyond. I pressed my ear against the thick wood, but still heard nothing.

Then the door moved. I hurried behind the door and huddled against the wall. The old man shuffled out, unladen with his burden of food and candle. He closed the door and returned the way he came. I had the choice to follow, but I desired to know whom he fed.

I crept up to the door and opened it a mere crack. The room was a large chamber, larger than those in the west wing, with a hearth piled high with burning logs. In front of the fire sat a chair with its back turned to the door and a small table at its side. The untouched platter sat atop the table. Shadows dance across the stone floor and walls, and revealed a large four-poster bed and dresser. I saw and heard nothing, but noticed something odd on the four-poster bed. The light glistened and revealed strange markings in the wood.

My sinful curiosity provoked me into entering the room. I stepped across the room and touched the posts. There were long claw marks in the thick wood. The sheets, too, were all a mess and torn to shreds. The pillows, formerly stuffed with goose feathers, were tossed onto the floor on either side of the bed.

"My father must be growing senile," a voice commented. I gasped and spun around in time to see a shadow of a person rise from the chair and turn to me. The figure had red eyes that glistened in the light of the fire. "He has sent me dinner when there is no full moon."

"I-I am very sorry. I did not mean to intrude," I stuttered. I felt my way down the bed and slipped towards the door. "I will leave immediately."

The man strode to the door and slammed it shut. I now had my first full glimpse of his countenance, and I found him to be devilishly handsome. He had shimmering black hair that was pulled behind him in a long tail. His face was narrow, but not pointed, and his high brow suited his bushy eyebrows. He wore a fine shirt of white satin, and the buttons of his white shirt glittered with diamonds. His pants were black, but he wore no shoes nor stockings. I thought he must have been cold walking the bare floors of the large, drafty room.

"I dislike repeating myself," he spoke up.

I started from my observation and curtsied. Here was a laird, or one who was near to a laird to have such lavish clothing. "Pardon me, sir, but I didn't hear the question."

"I asked you if you were sent here by my father," he repeated.

I blinked at him. "I would answer that, sir, if I knew who you were."

The young man raised an eyebrow and studied me for a moment. "I am the son of Laird Campbell, Tristan Campbell."

I shrank from my foolishness and hung my head. "Then no, my laird, I was not sent by your father, nor by anyone else."

His voice was soft, curious. There was no biting reprimand in his words. "Then how did come to be here?"

"I was curious, my laird. I heard there was no one in this wing, but saw an old man venture in this direction. I thought perhaps he was a thief hiding in the abandoned rooms," I explained.

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that what they tell everyone? Leod tells me little of the talk in the castle, and less outside of it," he commented.

"Yes, my laird," I answered.

He smiled and gestured to the seat at the fire. "Won't you join me for some talk? I am rather lonely here."

"I shouldn't, my laird. I'm not supposed to be out of my room at this hour," I told him.

"I will vouch for you if you find yourself in trouble," he promised. I looked between his face and the seat. Indecision stifled my actions. "Please," he begged.

"If you think me worth the company," I replied.

He chuckled. "You yourself saw my sole companion. Leod is loyal, but his faculties are a little stunted. I wish for fresh blood."

I smiled and curtsied. "Then I will be glad to speak with you, my laird."

"Good, then tell me of the village and the road. I have no view of them from my room," he commented as he set his hand on my lower back.

I blushed as he guided me over to the fire and into the seat. The young laird himself stood beside the hearth so his countenance was partially thrown into shadows.

"The village is well, and the road brings your father great wealth," I told him.

He waved his hand. "I don't care for the wealth. What of news? What of humanity?" He paused and I felt his eyes on me. "What of yourself?"

"I am but a servant, my laird," I replied.

"You are my guest, and I ask of your health and the health of your family," he insisted.

"If you so desire it, my laird," I wondered. He nodded and I took a deep breath to ease my nerves. "I was born and raised in the village, and have my mother and brother as kin."

"No one else? No father?" he asked me.

I shook my head. "He died two years ago fighting a band of the Menzies clan," I told him.

"I see. You took servitude to support them?" he guessed.

I sighed, but gave a nod. "Aye, and I have lost it with my foolishness this night."

"You have not lost it so long as I am my father's son," he insisted.

I looked up and studied his handsome features. "My laird, would you think it impertinent for me to ask you some questions?"

He chuckled. "I would think it odd if you didn't."

"What keeps you here? The village and servants think you dead, and your father acts as though he has no heir," I commented.

"Ah, that question," he mused.

"I'm sorry if I caused offensive," I quickly replied. I stood, but he stepped from the shadows and blocked my path.

"Please stay," he pleaded.

I looked away from him. "I really must be-"

The laird took my hands in his and I felt the strange heat of desire well up inside myself. I looked into his bright eyes and felt myself slip into a strange trance. There was such power in his hands, and such warmth in his eyes. I couldn't resist the sensual feeling that wrapped around my body and soul. God forgive me, but I felt as though I were in Heaven.

My laird leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine. His lips were warm and thrilled me with such bodily feelings of sexual need that I broke apart and gasped for air. He pressed sweet, gentle kisses down down my neck. I sighed and tilted my head back. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to him. He lifted his head and looked me in the eyes. His voice was low and husky. I shuddered at the need that punctuated his words.

"Are you sure?" he whispered.

I nodded. Words couldn't describe the longing I felt inside me. My innocence quivered at the thought of losing myself to wanton desire, but a deeper part of me begged to know what he offered me. This was the first time in my life I was wanted by a man and felt that I could return that need.

He smiled and captured my lips in a passionate kiss that devoured the last of my hesitation. I groaned and pressed myself closer to him. His hands ran across the strings that tied my dress to my body. His deft fingers untied my knots and my skirt fell to the floor. He opened my vest and blouse, and revealed my heaving, sensitive breasts. He pulled us to arm's length and his eyes swept over my nakedness. I blushed and tried to cover myself, but he grasped my wrists and held my hands at bay.

His eyes burned with a feral light that made me shudder and look away. He pressed our bodies against each other again and nipped at my neck with his teeth. His hands slid to my waist, and he pulled off my under garments. His fingers dipped into the coarse black hair between my legs and brushed against the sensitive bump in my wet folds.

A spasm of pleasure rippled through my body. I'd never known sexual pleasure before. The desire of my own flesh was an unknown world to me. I had missed so much. I gasped and clutched his arms. He chuckled and lifted his head to catch my eyes.

"A virgin. How perfect," he mused.

"I-is that bad?" I asked him. I feared he would reject me for my inexperience.

He shook his head. "No, on the contrary. You will be mine, now and forever."

He swept me into his arms and carried me over to the bed. He set me down atop the wild covers. I watched in fascination as he removed first his shirt and then his pants. His body was pale but well-muscled. My eyes wandered to his naked waist and widened when they beheld his need. His pulsing manhood was erect and swollen. The area between my legs swelled with heat. I panted for breath and my breasts heaved up and down.

He lay down beside me and tossed away my shirt. I, too, now lay naked on the sheets. He covered me with his warm body and pressed the tip of himself against my hot, wet opening.

"This may hurt, but the pleasure will be worth the pain," he assured me.

He thrust into me, and I winced against the pain as he broke through the proof of my virginity. He froze and lifted himself onto his arms. His teeth ground together and he lay stiff above me.

"So. . .tight," he murmured.

I gasped when he pushed deeper into me. His swollen manhood slid against my sensitive nub and sent ripples of pleasure through me. My body shuddered and convulsed around him. He grunted and pulled out only to thrust back inside me. His long, careful penetration exhilarated me. My hands clutched the sheets and I arched my back so my breasts pressed against his chest. I longed for us to become one, to know each other in the most intimate way possible.

He penetrated me again and again. Each thrust was a little faster than the one before. Every slide of him against me sent shivers of pleasure through me. I clutched myself to him and he pressed me to the sheets. My instincts took hold so that my hips mimicked his thrusts. The room filled with the sounds of our heaving and grinding. Our wet, naked bodies slid against each other. The sweet friction grew stronger inside me. I gasped for breath as he grunted and growled. He was like an animal, and my pleasure was his prey. He sought to bring out of me such delicious, sinful desire. I reveled in the feel of such lust, such passion. My insecurity, my shyness was swept aside by this powerful need to pleasure and be pleasured.

"My laird. Oh, my laird," I chanted as one would chant to their god, for he was that to me. My god of love, of passion, of this burning desire inside me.

"Louder," he growled. His voice was husky, thick and deep, like that of him inside me.

I tilted back my head and did as my laird bade me.

"My laird!" I cried out. I abandoned all goodness and sanctity that had been taught me. There was only us, and in our carnal desire there was no need of religion. "My God! My Heaven! Take me! Make me yours!"

"Yes," he snarled.

He thrust harder into me. I clutched onto him as our love-making changed to a wild rut. We were as animals, wild beasts that reveled in the act of procreation. His grunts grew deeper. They were more like the growls of a dog or wolf. The colors in his eyes changed to a passionate gold like the untamed autumn in the valley. He wrapped his arms around me and panted in my ear.

"Mine. All mine," he growled.

I shuddered at such a deep, wild, possessive tone. My body ached for this man, this wild beast, to tame me and give me the wondrous breath of life that was orgasm. I was his mate and he my dominant, my laird, my everything.

"Please!" I begged. I hardly knew what my delirious mind thought as words not my own poured from my mouth. "Please take me! Make me as you are!"

My laird lay over me as some demon possessed. His eyes were yellow and his teeth were long. His tamed hair was now an unruly mess that fell over his shoulders like a mane. He curled his lips back in a grin that showed off his rows of sharp fangs.

"You will be."

He leaned down and bit my shoulder. I gasped and clutched onto him as he thrust faster into me. My body fell into the ruins of delirious passion, and my soul with it. I shook and shivered as all the world faded into black. For a moment there was only we two, but that, too, faded until I knew no more.

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