Highlander's Return (2 page)

The light kiss made her blink in surprise. "Will you take me to my brother or not?"

"I will not," Conor replied and went to the tent's entrance. He pulled back the flap and peered out. "You must stay here, out of sight, and return with Dugan in the morning."

"You're sending me back? Will you not heed my warning?" Victoria sputtered. "You do not understand, I know my brother, he will stop at nothing to come for me."

"Then he shall die," Conor told her matter-of-factly.
"
I'm afraid there won't be much I can do to stop my family from defending themselves."

"Oh, my God
."
Victoria
shoved
against his chest. "You are a stubborn, annoying, maddening man."

"And you dress like a harlot and come here expecting me to abandon a battle to accompany you to the harbor. That I announce I kidnapped you, but wish to return you. At that point, your brother will bow at my gesture, and return with you to England without question or quarrel."

He had a point. Victoria scowled at him, and then the worst thing happened. She began to cry. Not quiet ladylike sniffles, no, she began to choke on
the long, hard sobs that came.

Mortified, Victoria tried to run from the tent, but Conor stopped her. His arms around her, he pulled her against him with a gentleness that contradicted his earlier behavior. "Shh, calm down, please, Victoria," his husky words made her cry harder.

Her tears soaked into his tunic. She pulled up the bottom edge and wiped her nose, not wanting to face him.

"Look at me, Victoria," he pulled her face up to him. "You must stop this crying at once."

"I do not…have to obey you." Her words a mixture of anger and
hiccups
.

"Very well, then cry," Conor replied. Then stopped her retort by covering her mouth with his.

She pushed against his chest, but he was immovable, his
body
hard as a rock. His essence surrounded her like a fog, and she gave up and wrapped her arms around his neck. How she'd missed him.

"Allow me in," Conor commanded and she parted her lips, allowing his tongue access. It probed and immediately she recognized his taste.

His hand slid down her back to cup her bottom, and lifted her up so he could pres
s his hardness into her center.

Victoria moaned. She should not allow this, but her body refused to allow for any thought other than taking off his clothes
and taking him in.

"
I want you
, Conor," she murmured, and thrust her hips into him.
C
ontented when rewarded by his groan.

"It's all I’ve thought about, "Conor replied, his wicked tongue trailing down her throat. "All I
crave
right now. You."

His hand pushed her breast free from the low-cut blouse, and his mouth fell over her hard nipple, taking it in completely, sucking it.

"Oh!" Victoria cried out, grabbing at his hair.

He backed her toward the cot, his fingers making quick work of removing her skirts
and blouse
. Once they fell onto the ground,
pooling around them, he kneeled at her feet and removed her shoes.

His darkened blue eyes lifted to her. "Have you thought of my tongue between your legs, Beauty?" Victoria nodded, and he lowered his eyes to her throbbing center. "Me, as well."

Calloused hands trailed up her legs to her thighs
with excruciating slowness. With
his fingers splayed
between
them
, Conor pushed
her legs apart to allow him access. His head dipped,
his breath
hot,
tantalizing
.

His tongue darted
between her folds.
Victoria gasped out loud
.
Conor chuckled. "Sensitive, are you?"

Once again, he slid his tongue against the most delicate part of her, and she bucked forward into his mouth. His hands moved to the front and spread her open, exposing the now-pulsating nub, which he began to suckle
and tease without mercy
.

Victoria wobbled and held onto his shoulders, while at the same time pumping her hips back and forth against his mouth. "Oh, God
.
"

Everything began to spin, and she surrendered to the rush that raced to the precise spot where his mouth met her body. She crested, her legs giving out, but Conor held her in place while continuing his ministrations through her orgasm, prolonging it.

In a haze, she felt him pick her up and lay her upon the cot. She attempted to open her eyes, but could not, her entire being wrapped in a cocoon of sensations. Her body continued to want with an all-encompassing need that only he could fulfill.

She loved that although not a gentle lover, Conor
had taken
the time to prepare her for what came next.

Conor's large body covered hers, and he thrust into her
without preamble
. His thick cock filled and stretched her. "Suck on my tongue." He pushed his tongue into her mouth, and began to slide it in and out of her, in a steadfas
t rhythm that matched his hips.

Hands on his taut derriere, Victoria urged him to continue, as another crest threatened.

A cliff from which to fall neared, but she did not reach it,
because
suddenly Conor slid out of her and
rolled
her to her stomach.

"You are so tight when I take you from behind, I wish to sample that again."
Lifting her hips off the bed, he
bent over her and bit into her shoulder
, his teeth flat
, while
guiding himself into her again.

The combination of slight pain
from the bite
and ecstasy
of his cock moving inside,
pushed her to want more from him. She
pressed
her bottom back to meet his thrusts. "Yes!"

He pounded without reserve, standing behind her with his hands on her hips, as he worked his long cock back and forth.

"Come with me," Conor panted against her ear. "I am near."

His fingers found her core, and he
glided
them with quick motions against her crux.

"Ah!" At once she came, her body milking him as he, too,
fell
into the abyss brought by their lovemaking.

Conor brought her up against his chest, his arms around her waist, while his body shuddered and his hips continued to drive, every drop of his seed pouring into her.

They collapsed onto the cot, Conor on top of her, while she lay on her stomach. Both gasped for air.

When Victoria found she could speak, she pulled away from his heated body, his length sliding out of her, and stood
. She picked up her discarded skirts and wrapped them
about her body.

He lay on the cot and watched her, not bothering to cover his nudity.

Victoria fought not to study his muscular body for fear she'd go back to his arms. "I am still cross with you, Conor."

"I would be disappointed if you were not." He teased and sat up. "You must return to the keep, Victoria. Once this skirmish is over, I will return and decide what to do about your brother."

He stood and began to dress, "I must see about the injured man
and speak to my cousin
."

"Conor, we must discuss what your brother plans."

"Not now. Wait here for me
.
I promise to pleasure you again tonight." He pulled his tunic
on
over his shoulders
, flashed her a smile
and left.

"You are an arrogant lout!" Victoria called after him. She
sunk
on
to
the cot and closed her eyes. Why had she allowed it to happen again? He was about to become betrothed. Her chest constricted, and she blinked to keep from crying again. She got up and began to dress.

Conor entered the tent where Liam had been taken. The sun was setting, which made the interior of the space too dim to see clearly. He lit a lamp and walked to the injured man's side. "Liam, are you awake?"

The injured man's eyelids lifted, the sluggish movements caused by the Laudanum
the doctor must have given him.

"Aye," Liam replied. "Barely."

"How do you fare?" Conor felt the man's face, glad his skin
remained
cool to the touch
. A
good sign.

"The bastard ran me through," Liam scowled
.
"Bastard."

"No doubt he's also being doctored tonight," Conor told him, as Liam had reciprocated with a slice into the man's arm. "
M
ay even lose the arm."

Liam’s soft chuckle was followed b
y his head lulling to the side.

"Conor?" Dugan's head pushed through the tent entrance. "I must speak with you."

"Aye, and I with you," Conor told him, and stood. "Sleep well, Liam." He pressed his hand against the now-sleeping man's shoulder.

Conor followed his large cousin to the cart. Dugan always slept on the
wagon
, refusing to slumber in a tent. No matter that he became a ready target, the giant insisted he'd thwart an attack, claiming to be a light sleeper.

"Why did you bring the whores?" Conor asked without preamble. "We have not been here long enough to warrant it."

Conor shrugged, "I asked Calum and he agreed. Besides, it seems that the men are bored." Dugan scratched his chin. "Why does it seem more like a picnic than a battle?"

"You brought four whores, only three went into the tent," he ignored Dugan's question and motioned to the tent where he'd seen the women enter. "What do you suppose happened to the fourth?"

"She's in your tent," Dugan replied, his voice flat. "If the Englishwoman went to such lengths to be with you, who am I to prevent it." He continued, amusement in his eyes, "
It seems
Miss Westcott is
quite
besotted with you."

"You will take her back with you tomorrow. As well as Adam, his wife is about to give birth."

"A man does not leave the battlefield for such matters." Dugan's eyebrows pinched together. "Why would you allow such a thing?"

"As you stated earlier, this is nothing more than our cousins and the McNeils, arguing over some cows that wandered into McNeil lands."

Dugan slid his gaze across the expanse of land toward the other clan's domain. "I am to travel to see the McNeil at daybreak; I will take the two with me on my return."

"As long as you do."

"The matter with the McNeil will affect you," Dugan told Conor, and looked toward his tent. How do you feel about Miss Westcott?"

Conor was taken aback. He and Dugan were
close. As
cousins,
they
grew up together,
and
shared much over the years. Women included. He did not intend to share Victoria.

"She is like none I've been with. I find I cannot get my fill of her," he replied honestly. "I may take her with me upon my return, move into my own keep with her."

"Marry her?" Dugan asked.

Conor narrowed his eyes at the man before him. "Why do you ask?"

After digging in his pouch, Dugan pulled out a parchment. Conor recognized Calum's seal upon it. What did his brother, the laird, plan?

"It's a betrothal request between you and the McNeil lass, Lisbeth."

Air left his lungs. Being the second in line to lord over the McDougall
clan
,
it seemed
his duty finally came and claimed him. Conor could only stare at the parchment, not wanting to believe the time had arrived.
Not now
.

He looked back toward his tent. "Dugan, can you delay?"

"How long?"

"Just another day. I must think on this. Accept it."

"There is more," Dugan told him, placing his hand on Conor's shoulder in a show of support. "Calum intends to marry off Miss Westcott."

"To whom?"

Dugan's amber eyes met his. "To me."

****

Where had Conor gone off to? Victoria sat on the cot, her legs pulled up against her chest. She'd been there for hours, not daring to go outside, except once in a dash to relieve herself, returning without delay.

She could not stroll about in her current attire. She'd not thought to bring something less colorful along, and was now forced to remain inside Conor's tent until his return.

Finally, t
he tent flap lifted and Conor entered, his eyes immediately searching for her. He held two bowls of food and a bundle in a cloth, which he placed on a small table.