Highlander in Her Bed (31 page)

"You are sure?"

"Aye, sweetness. No harm will come to old Ben. Of that, I am certain," he said, drawing her back into his arms, needing her. The aged dog reminded him so much of Rory that it made him hurt inside to watch him.

Now wasn't the time to be reminded of those he'd once loved and lost.

Four-legged or otherwise.

Holding on to love was all that concerned him just now, and so he pulled his lady even closer, tucking her head beneath his chin so he could enjoy the feel of her silky hair, its heady fragrance that always delighted him.

"Tell me more of your green lady," he said, caressing her back. "I have ne'er encountered one, though I know they exist."

Just keep talking.

Help me put off the words that will break my heart.

"I think she was the Ell-Maid of Dunstaffnage," she obliged, snuggling into him, her warm softness making him ache in ways that weren't good for him. "
A glaistaig
or, yes, a green lady, according to the information I found. She is said to be a Campbell ghost, haunting Dunstaffnage Castle and appearing as a harbinger whenever doom or good fortune is about to befall the Campbells."

"I have heard of her," Alex spoke true, the thundering of her heart against his chest a bliss that near unmanned him. "No one kens who she is, but I canna think she'd come here. 'Tis Clan Campbell that interests her, and she's ne'er been known to leave Dunstaffnage."

His lady lifted her chin, looked up at him with shining eyes. "The MacDougalls of Lorn held Dunstaffnage long before Robert Bruce wrested it from us in 1309," she said, pride limning her. "And certainly before the Campbells insinuated themselves with the castle's custody."

Alex stiffened, the way she'd said the word
us
hitting him harder than it should have.

But the wickedness of the MacDougalls of that day was renowned, their feats of pillage and rapine legend. Hearing her speak of the waylaying ravagers with such starry-eyed reverence was like looking into the face of his destiny and knowing he'd drawn a dulled sword.

Hearing her mention his king in the same breath, a man he'd loved above his own life and had thought to serve for the course of it, just another reminder of how quickly one's fate could change and how desperately he wanted victory this time.

That there even was a this time was a wonder.

He only hoped he'd use the chance wisely.

And he'd best start by telling her the truth. "Lass, let us walk a bit. There is something I must tell you," he began, taking her hand and leading her into the heather.

Deep into the hush of a birch and hazel thicket, needing the distance from One Cairn Village and the MacDougalls' sacred treasure of a cross-topped cairn before he trusted himself to speak.

"See you," he continued at last, stopping beside a rocky burn. "Just as the Ell-Maid of Dunstaffnage is a mystery, so are there other unexplained
things
in the realms I hope you ne'er have cause to visit."

Her eyes began to widen, so he grasped her shoulders, kissing her hard before he decided to become a less-than-honest man. "There are powerful forces at work in those realms," he said, threading his hands in her hair, caressing her nape. "Elements and consequences most of us will ne'er understand or master. We can only hope to tolerate them, or, in time, perhaps learn ways to lessen their annoyance."

"Dear God!" She broke away from him, all color draining from her face. "I forgot!" she cried, her eyes round. "You are injured. Your friend Sir Hardwin told me. He warned me to treat you gently lest I hurt you."

"
Hardwick
?" Alex coughed. His face darkened and even the sun-bright little wood seemed to fill with shadow. "When did that rogue speak to you?"

Mara blinked. "He was waiting for me by the little stone wall near the training ground. But he said his name was Hardwin."

"And so it is. But Hardwick suits him better."

"I do not understand."

"Nor do you want to," he shot back, his eyes narrowing. "He didn't touch you, did he? Say anything
unusual
? Unusual beyond telling you of my wounds?"

Mara shook her head. She remembered how the dark knight had clutched his shield before him but thought it best not to mention it.

Especially with a nickname like Hard
wick
.

"He was a true friend to you," she said, opting for diplomacy. She was also certain the rakish knight had meant only good. "He did not want me to accidentally hurt you. And now"—she raised a hand to dash at the moistness filming her eyes—"I've been throwing myself at you and likely causing you all kinds of pain."

"I should have expected as much—that Hardwick would seek to warn you," he said, not taking his eyes from her. "He is indeed a longtime friend if a bit of a scoundrel."

"Then you are in pain?"

"The only pain that concerns me is the possibility of losing you." He slid his fingers under her chin, angling her face toward his. "That such a threat exists cannot be denied. The wounds I carry were received in warning. A punishment meted out for taking my ease with you, a flesh-and-blood female."

He paused, drew an audible breath. "If I indulge myself thusly again, there stands the chance I might be whisked away for longer than six weeks. As well, that I might face worse than being skewered by a few lightning bolts."

"
Skewered by lightning bolts
?" Mara's heart stopped, then slammed hard against her ribs. "Tell me it isn't true!"

"Would that I could." He slipped his hand down her arm, gave her fingers a squeeze. "You may lift my plaid and see for yourself if you like. I don't mind. It is my wish that you understand so that we may fight this together. Fight it and win."

He let go of her and stepped back. "Come, lass, I know you have a bold heart," he said, holding his arms out to the sides. "Ease up my plaid and look."

Mara's stomach turned into a cold, hard knot and her mouth went dry, but she did as he bid, reaching for the tartan cloth and lifting.

"God in heaven!" she cried, staring.

White and gray dots whirled across her vision, her heart clenching at the livid scars slashed onto his muscled thighs. Angry, black welts—they almost looked alive—seeming to throb and smolder beneath her stare.

His
sex
hung proud as ever, its thick length blessedly free of the marks. Nor did she see any too near the wild tangle of his dark chestnut bush.

"Dinna look too closely, Mara-lass, or I willna be able to stand so quietly before you," he purred, his husky burr almost making her forget the scars.

A flash of intense sexual heat whipped through her and she bit her lip, unable to look away as he slowly lengthened and filled.

She sucked in a breath. "Th-that must hurt beyond endurance," she stammered, her heart pounding wildly when his full-stretched shaft began to twitch and jerk.

"Och, aye, it does," he owned, a sensual smile curving his lips. "But not beyond endurance."

"I meant—"

"I ken what you meant and I love you for it," he said, speaking from the heart. Seizing her hands, he stepped close and kissed her roughly, testing the fates by letting his hardness rub against her hip.

"There are times I'd vow I have always loved you, waited forever and aye to find you," he added, slanting a discreet glance downward.

Relief flooded him when he couldn't see the black silk of her skirt through his arousal.

"I love you, too," she cried, beginning to tremble. "So much it hurts at times."

"And that, my love, is what we shall ignore. The hurting." He stepped back from her, his hands already on his sword belt, undoing its latch. "What we canna ignore, we will besiege in other ways."

"Other ways?"

"O-o-oh, aye," he said, his voice tight, thrumming with need. "The saints know I've had enough time to ponder such things."

Mara began to melt inside. "W-what things?"

"You will see soon enough," he promised, casting aside his sword belt.

When he dropped his plaid as well, spreading it on the sun-warmed grass, Mara's breath began to come shallow and her female place turned hot and achy.

Hot, damp, and achy.

There could be only one reason for a Highlander to toss his plaid on the ground.

An incredible yearning ripped through her, but her fear for his wounds warred with her passion, making her feel as if she were walking blind along a cliff's edge.

One false move and she'd plunge into darkness.

Possibly lose him forever.

She eyed the plaid, glanced back at him. "You can't mean for us to… to
you know
?"

"For me to take you on my plaid? Here in the heather?" He flashed her a look so sexy she almost wept. "Nay, sweetness, such bliss must wait for another day. Then, when I am sure our couplings won't mean an end to us."

"B-but you said the pain is tolerable," Mara's need made her protest. "And there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with—"

"My shaft?"

She swallowed, could feel her cheeks heating.

He gave her another deadly smile.

Then, holding her gaze, he took the object in question in hand and curled his fingers around the swollen head, squeezing until all hardness receded and its thickness rested once more against his thigh.

Still formidable, but… sleeping.

Calmly benign.

"You have the rights of it, lass." He dragged her against him again, kissing her deeply. "There is naught troubling my
need
for you save the exertion it's costing me to keep it at rest."

Mara looked at him, her own need saturating her, its hot drumming making her bold. "Then why are you? Exerting yourself?"

His lips curved in a devastating smile. "Because it is my hope that by doing so, I can safely treat you to other delights."

"Delights that have to do with your plaid?"

"Och, aye," he agreed, stroking his fingers into her hair. "I wish you to spread yourself across it so I can feast on you." His deep voice flowed into her, the intimacy of his words sending hot tingles to her core. "Dinna deny me, lass."

"Deny you?" Mara's breath caught on the absurdity.

Already long liquid pulls of desire coiled through her belly and her throat had gone dry. She knew exactly what kind of feasting he meant and she wanted it. Badly. She couldn't wait to feel his mouth on her, his tongue laving her pulsing, needy flesh.

"But it isn't fair," she blurted, realizing too late she'd voiced the words.

"Not fair?" he echoed, sliding strong fingers around her arms and easing her onto the plaid, positioning her in a way that made her body thrum with craving.

He reached down to touch her breasts, let his fingers play at her nipples. "What isn't fair when I've a ravening hunger for a certain moist and succulent part of you?"

Mara looked up at him, almost climaxing.

She
did
slide right over that cliff's edge she'd been teetering along.

Only instead of hurtling into darkness, deep languorous heat swirled around her, consuming her. A sensual haze so exquisite she could only swallow against the dryness in her throat and keep staring at the long, thick length of him still dangling so provocatively between his thighs.

Provocatively and deliciously.

She shivered, unable to look away.

He followed her gaze, his breathing as ragged as hers. "I told you, lass, no staring. Or shall I cover myself?"

"No." That much she could manage.

Heaven forbid he hid such well-hung masculine beauty from her.

Looking at him, even relaxed, flooded her with streaming anticipation. Drenched her with such need, it took her breath away and sent the heady musk of her arousal spiraling up around them.

His eyes darkened, the slow curve of his smile making her think he'd noticed it, too.

"That's good, Mara." He moved closer, the smolder in his gaze letting her know he had. "Melt and burn for me. I want the scent and taste of you all o'er me, need to brand the essence of you into my skin so I can carry you with me always, no matter where I go or how long I might be parted from you."

He knelt beside her on the plaid. "You are beautiful, the most desirable woman I have e'er seen," he vowed, smoothing his hands up and down her legs.

Inching her skirt upward, he exposed her naked thighs, the delicate triangle of sheer black lace stretched so intimately between them.

Or rather the delicate black lace that
had
covered her so intimately.

Somehow he'd maneuvered himself between her legs and was using his teeth and tongue to tug down the lacy panties. Mara had never seen anything more erotic in her life.

Nor had she ever been so excited.

"O-o-oh!" she gasped. Tingling warmth streaked across her exposed flesh as he eased the panties over her ankles, sent them sailing with a jerk of his head.

"Oh!" she cried again, intense pleasure rinsing her.

"Oh,
aye
." He flashed her a knowing grin. "Sweet lass, I have burned to do that e'er since I first saw you wearing such a wee slip o' nothingness."

"Doing it cannot have been near so sweet as having it done!"

He arched a brow. "Say you?"

She nodded. "Any sweeter and I would have—"

"Not yet, lovely." He raised and bent her knees, spreading them wide. "You call me Hottie Scottie," he challenged her, slipping a hand between her legs to rub her softness, letting his fingers toy and caress. "Shall we see just how hot I can make you?"

And if this pleasure, at least, can be ours.

Willing it so, Alex kept his gaze on her sweetness, sent up a silent prayer of thanks that the fingers stroking and rubbing her remained solid.

That he could feel her slick heat, the soft moistness of her most tender flesh and the lush pelt of her gleaming, red-gold nether curls was a wonder.

If his entire body pounded with the need to bury himself deep inside her again, a thorough tasting of her would have to suffice.

"You are mine," he breathed, spreading her legs wider. He lowered his head, looking up at her as he touched his tongue to her inner thigh. "I will ne'er let you go," he vowed, licking his way closer to her heat. "You are my salvation, your name engraved on my every breath. Written across my heart."