Highlander Unraveled (Highland Bound Book 6) (7 page)

Ballocks!

Just then, Shona rushed from the castle, her face pale, eyes wide, and hair in disarray. She looked from Ewan to me, and back again, her mouth forming an O of surprise.

“Emma…” she started to say but trailed off.

Ewan walked toward her with wide steps, pulling her into his embrace and whispering something against her ear. The show of affection, the comfort they sought from each other, only brought me pain. I winced and looked away.

I needed a drink. A strong one. My legs felt heavy as I lifted them, taking one step at time until I could reach the castle, when what I really wanted to do was set up camp in the glen and pray that my wife returned to me.

What I wouldn’t give to have her back. I’d give up Gealach, my position as the king’s servant. I’d live as an outlaw the rest of my days if only I could have her back.

And even as I thought it, I could see her frown. See her wag her finger at me when she didn’t like what I was doing. She’d not want me to give it up. She’d want our son provided for. But didn’t she understand? Didn’t she know how very much I depended on her? I had not lived before she came into my life, merely existed.

I didn’t bother with the great hall but headed straight to my library, opening the door with enough force to cause it to slam into the wall, disrupting a painting that Emma had placed there the previous year. ’Twas a picture of us both, one that had been commissioned shortly after our wedding.

She said it was tradition to have a portrait done of a wedded couple where she was from, and I’d agreed, though I wondered if the reason she’d wanted it now was so that I had something to look upon when she disappeared. A piece of evidence that she was real.

I studied the painting of us both. The artist had captured the excitement in our eyes, our love. The secret curl of our lips. She looked like a red-haired angel, and I the devil who’d caught her. Her hand was reaching across my middle, touching my sword, and one of my arms was around her, the other touching her elbow, as though I were leading that arm to my sword.

That was a telling sign; a show to any who would look that Emma wasn’t just my wife. She was my partner. My other half. Her disappearance left a gaping wound in my chest.

I turned from the painting and headed to the sideboard. Pouring more than a few drams of whisky into my cup. I needed it. Needed to feel the burn of liquor sloshing down my throat.

After downing the entire cup’s contents, I considered refilling, or perhaps simply drinking from the jug, to feel nothing. To bring on the numbness that such quantities of liquor would afford me.

But I didn’t. Instead, I whipped toward the hearth and hurled the cup into its barren black mouth.

The mug clattered against the stone, but didn’t shatter, for it was made of metal, and even as angry as I was, as much as I needed to destroy something, I couldn’t make metal break.

“I’ve sent a messenger,” Ewan said from behind me.

I couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t turn around. My breaths were heavy, my heart pounding. I didn’t want him to see my pain, to know for a fact that my heart was rupturing. That I was weak after all.

“Tell me when they arrive. Now, leave me.”

Ewan muttered something and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

I picked up the jug of whisky and whipped it toward the hearth. Constructed from earthenware material, it did shatter into a hundred jagged shards.

But instead of feeling satisfied, I was only filled with frustration.

Chapter Seven

Moira

I basked in sublime pleasure. What naughtiness we got away with in the year 1544 was completely different than had the date been of a modern era…

Rory was supposed to be working.

He was supposed to be occupied with his lairdly documents, and then there was the usual training of his men.

But I’d kept him from leaving our bedroom.

And he couldn’t get fired for being late because he was the one in charge.

His head rose, lips glistening, from between my thighs, where he’d licked and sucked until I came so hard, my hips literally bucked from the bed.

Damn, but he was good at that.

I stretched lazily, my legs still spread wide for his viewing pleasure.

“That was… so good,” I murmured.

“I’m not done with ye yet,” he growled, climbing up over my body, hands at my sides, thighs settling between mine.

His muscles shimmered with sweat, and his smile… God, but his smile could melt ice.

My body vibrated from the sheer power of him, the raw sexuality that oozed from every pore. Oh, yes, I’d just come, but the sight of him made me ready to do so all over again.

I shuddered, my clit still pulsing from his tongue, and anticipating what was coming next.

He gripped one of my thighs and tugged upward until I lengthened my leg out, my foot resting on his shoulder. He kissed my ankle, scraped his teeth over the arch of my foot. I shivered.

“But, your men, they are waiting for you,” I teased, grinning, and knowing he’d not be leaving this room until he’d left me spent on the bed.

What Rory liked to do was make me come over and over. He liked to watch me orgasm, to see me walk a little slower than normal because my thighs ached from being spread so long.

And, let’s be honest, I liked it, too.

We’d been at Dunleod Castle just a few months. Ranulf, my stepson—God, that was weird to say—was still here at the castle with us. He’d just turned twenty years old, and was still acting like a complete dick. A spoiled, vindictive little asshole.

Rory took him daily from his locked chamber out to the field, trained him with the rest of his men, even let him eat in the great hall—which was a good thing. His son shouldn’t be kept a prisoner, but I guess it was needed considering Ranulf threatened at least once a week to gut Rory and to tie me naked to a pike and burn me.

But why was I thinking about that now? What a mood killer.

I shook away the tedious and mundane, concentrating on Rory’s tongue sliding down my calf.

“How do ye want it?” he asked, wiggling his brows with wicked intent.

“Anyway you want to give it to me,” I said, biting my lip. I reached to trail my fingers over one thick pectoral, down the ridges of his abdomen, brushing through the tuft of hair at the base of his thick cock.

I wrapped my fingers around his warm, velvet shaft, feeling it jump in my hand. Hot damn, but every time I touched him, I still had a hard time believing he, this, us, was a reality. When we’d first dated years ago, in the modern world, I’d thought I must have been dreaming. A guy like him, wanting a girl like me? It wasn’t that I didn’t have confidence in myself, well, maybe a slight touch of self-esteem had been nicked, but he was so freaking hot, he could have had any woman he wanted, and he chose me. A nerdy, history-loving, herbalist.

For goodness’ sake, he’d traveled five hundred years in the future—
twice
—to find me. Thank god, I’d been able to go back with him the second time.

I loved him so much, I couldn’t imagine living without him. If he’d disappeared again… Ugh. I didn’t even want to think about it. Or the man I’d taken up with after he left the first time. Dickie was a real
winner
—sarcasm intentional.

“I want ye…” He drawled out the
ye
and glanced around the room.

We’d made love on every surface and against every square inch of floor and wall. Where could he possibly take me that we hadn’t already explored? Who was I kidding? I didn’t care where, as long as he thrust inside me soon.

“Come with me.” He leapt from the bed, his cock bouncing against his thighs, and pulled me up. “I want to try something different.”

Different had been the name of the game lately. We’d had time to play without me getting pregnant. Some years back, I’d opted for a birth control shot versus an IUD… Thank god, because if I’d gotten the IUD, there was no telling how the hell I’d get it out. It wasn’t like I could request Fate send me back for my yearly gynecological appointment. My last shot had been about a week before Rory came back to the modern era. Since I was supposed to repeat the shots every three months to avoid pregnancy, I figured it had worn off about a month ago. My periods had stopped a while ago with the shot, and had yet to restart. I didn’t even know if I’d get one between now and getting pregnant. I secretly hoped to avoid one altogether. Selfish, maybe, but periods were the worst. The cramping, the mess… Not to mention the lack of tampons.

Emma and Shona had filled me in on what it was like to have a period in 1544 and it sounded like a nightmare. I think I could make my excuses to Rory and stay in bed the entire five to seven days it took to run its course. With only a wad of fabric to collect anything… Ick. Who wouldn’t stay in bed?

I could see some men thinking that having a period was a woman’s excuse to be lazy for a week, but, a man had never had cramps, or any of the other gross things attached to it.

And once again, why was I thinking about that now?

Rory slapped my arse, a wakeup call. I cried out, a little startled, and he chuckled.

“Welcome back, love.”

He set me on my feet, bending low for a minute to flick his tongue over my nipple, his hands cupping my breasts. Oh, yes, this…

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to try,” he said.

“I’m willing to try anything,” I murmured, threading my hands through his hair and moaning.

“I love that about ye,” he said. “Wait right here.”

“Trust me, I’m not going anywhere.”

I watched him walk, naked, toward the foot of our bed. His ass was pure sexual perfection. Muscular, round, and just as tanned as the rest of him. He swam naked regularly, and I’d joined him on several occasions, though my pale skin had ended up burned, while his turned a delicious golden brown.

Rory opened the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulled out a small satchel. He wiggled his brows at me, and then tugged open the strings and pulled out a long stretch of silky-looking cord.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“A gift from Logan.”

I winged a brow.

“A wedding gift,” he said, a naughty curve to his lips.

My brow rose even further. I knew men in the modern era liked to talk shop, but I hadn’t realized they would in the past. They were all big, strong and warrior-like, talking politics and battle strategy.

But sex?

I guess I was wrong.

“What’s it for?” I asked, curious. Was he going to tie me up? “And why haven’t we used it sooner?”

“Ye’ll see… And I was waiting for just the right moment. This seems like it.”

Rory looked around the room and then settled on a metal hook in the wall that had held a tapestry I’d asked him to remove it because it creeped me out. A battle scene that was gory in its threaded detail didn’t exactly help me to fall asleep at night.

At his tall height, Rory easily reached the hook and threaded the cord through it, making a whizzing sound as he did it.

“Come here,” he said, crooking his finger at me.

I complied without question, bare feet padding across the cold stone. Eyes focused on him. My body was covered in tingles of anticipation.

“Face the wall and hold your hands up.”

I did as he asked, pressing my fingers to the cold stone. I arched my back a little, trying to get close to him. Wanting him to look at me and the curve of my back that led to my ass. Rory let out an appreciative whistle, sliding his hands over my buttocks, smacking one side and then the other.

“Have I told ye today how beautiful ye are?” He whispered in my ear, sliding the cord gently around my wrists, his hard cock pressing up against my rear, his breath on my neck.

“Only a dozen times,” I murmured, body lighting on fire.

“Does that hurt?” he asked, tightening the cord.

“No.” My heart pounded, breaths came quick. Excitement filled my blood. I’d never been tied up before, and the loss of control, of my husband being able to do whatever he wanted to me only made it that much more erotic.

From behind, Rory slid his hands up and down my sides, his knuckles scraping over my ribs, the tops of his nails skimming over the sides of my breasts. Gooseflesh rose in the wake of his touch, and I shuddered, excited and filled with eagerness.

He moved my hair to the side and pressed his lips to the skin at the nape of my neck. Rory glided his lips down over my spine, kneeling behind me to kiss each cheek of my behind. He used his hands to apply pressure to my legs, and I spread them, feeling the wetness of my need drip down the sides of my inner thighs.

His teeth skimmed over my thigh and then he was standing again, his fingers trailing over the places he’d kissed

“I still canna believe ye’re here with me,” he whispered.

“If it’s a dream, I never want to wake.”

He chuckled. “Then it’s a good thing we seem to rarely leave our bed.”

I started to giggle, but his hands skimmed around the front of my body, fingers sliding between my folds and circling over my clit. Oh, but he always knew just how to touch me.

My head fell back, and his mouth was waiting for me, his tongue diving deep to mix with mine. Rory could kiss me until my breath ceased. He was an expert kisser, from every angle, position… I moaned, arching my back so my buttocks reared against his engorged cock.

“How long will you make me wait?” I asked.

“Hours,” he murmured. “Maybe I’ll leave ye tied here all day. Return to ye every hour and make ye climax until ye collapse.”

Was he serious? I’d be lying if I didn’t admit the idea was more than intriguing. I shuddered, my nipples tightening, my sex throbbing, imagining myself helpless, wanting.

Rory sensed my reaction, and let out soft, gravelly laugh of satisfaction as he pinched my rear.

“Naughty, lass. Ye want me to do that…”

“Kind of,” I said with a giggle.

He let out his breath in a long whistle, and then murmured. “I could tell the servants ye are ill, to leave ye be, then no one would come inside.” He slid his hands up and over my forearms, gripping the backs of my hands where I held tight to the cord.

His cock seemed to grow behind me, pressing thick against my buttocks, and I reacted immediately, pushing back, wanting.

“Yes,” I murmured.

“
Mo chreach
,” he cursed in Gaelic. “What am I going to do with ye?”

I arched my back again, close enough that with one small twist, I could run my tongue over his lips. “Everything.”

Rory groaned, opened his mouth and bit the tip of my tongue. “Damn, lass, but ye make me so hard. I’m going to walk around with my plaid tented the rest of the day.”

A throaty laugh escaped me. “If you’re going to leave me tied here for hours… Well, then ye can think about that. About how much you want me.”

Rory groaned. “Now who is being tormented?”

And then he was grabbing my hips, tugging me back, his cock notching at the entrance to my sex, and thrusting forward.

I cried out in surprise and pleasure, while he growled with feral passion.

“I’m going to tie ye to the bed, and keep ye there for all time.” He thrust deep. Pulled out softly, and thrust deep again. “I want ye limp and wet and tingling all over.”

I already was, holding tight to the cord as he drove deeper and deeper. My head had fallen back and all I could do was gasp and mewl.

He lifted me slightly, until I stood on my tiptoes, letting him push deeper inside me. Then, effortlessly, he lifted me all the way, and I held tight to the cord, my entire body vibrating from pleasure.