How to Handle a Highlander (Hot Highlanders) (10 page)

Something moved to their right. Both men turned to look, because the hall was quiet. There was a flip of skirt and a glimpse of Moira as she passed by the opening to the hall on her way to the kitchen. Gahan lost interest in the conversation. It was annoying how fast his thoughts returned to how much he wanted another taste of her.

“Ye’re besotted, just like yer brother. But me point is made. She is nae being enjoyed by that old man.” Saer stood and stretched, then slapped Gahan on the shoulder. “Life is too short to lie with the wrong woman.”

“Ye sound like ye know that from experience.”

Saer shrugged. “Both our mothers were lemans. It makes sense that we inherited their will to have love in their lives. Some call that a curse. In yer case, it might prove to be so.”

“Even if it is a lie, her wedding vows separate us.”

“A curse it will be then,” Saer offered solemnly. “No man chooses who draws his interest. The only thing ye have power over is whether or nae ye let those opportunities slip through yer fingers. They are rare, though, so think upon the matter before making yer choice.”

“Do ye nae think I have?” Gahan snorted. “I asked her to run away with me. Me sire would have a great deal to say about that.”

Saer raised an eyebrow. “Yer sire cannae change the fact that ye have the same fire in yer blood that he did, and that it is his fault. As for the lass saying no to ye…” His lips slowly raised and parted to flash his teeth. “Are ye sure ye do nae want to try to change her mind? Lasses can take a bit of persuading.”

“That is a dangerous idea, my friend.”

Saer shrugged. “If I wanted her, I wouldn’t care.”

He moved off, his kilt swaying as he went. There was no doubt in Gahan’s mind that Saer would do exactly as he claimed, but what bothered him the most was the spark of irritation that came from even the mention of another man being interested in Moira.

He couldn’t be jealous.

Shouldn’t be.

But he stood, and in spite of his better judgment telling him to join his men, Gahan moved toward the kitchen.

Toward Moira.

***

The kitchen was quiet. The maids had climbed into their bunks on the far side of it where they might enjoy the heat from the large hearths. A couple of young lads were sleeping on pallets on the floor. The cook had already removed her overdress and was brushing out her hair when Moira appeared.

“Me husband has fallen asleep.” She offered the cider to the cook.

“Ye do nae want it, Lady Matheson?”

The cook was forcing herself to ask. Hope brightened her eyes, and she wrung her hands to keep from reaching for the cider. Moira shook her head and handed it to her.

“Enjoy it.”

The cook smiled and lowered herself, then lifted the small lid off the mug and inhaled the scent. She hummed and carried it back to the large worktable she spent so many hours at. She perched herself on a stool, the embers from the fire turning her cheeks ruby, and sipped at the cider.

Moira smiled as she turned and left the kitchen. There was a bed above stairs for her, but it seemed less than welcoming. She moved into the shadows slowly, in no hurry to get to the stairs.

She’d rather meet Gahan in the shadows. It was a wicked thought, one that warmed her cheeks, but she didn’t believe the blush was one of shame. No, she needed to be truthful. It was excitement warming her. But she would be disappointed tonight.

She sighed and lifted her skirt to mount the stairs.

“What were ye hiding from me, Moira?”

For a moment, she thought she must have conjured Gahan from the darkness with her longings. She stared at the shadows as they parted, still unbelieving. He moved forward, and her fingers connected with him. She jumped, not realizing she’d reached out to touch him.

“Thinking about me?” he questioned suggestively.

“I—” She clamped her mouth shut and tried to force her wits to return.

He stepped closer, and she retreated. “Ye what?”

She bumped into the wall. Gahan took advantage of her position, flattening a hand on the stone surface next to her head. He was impossibly close.

Yet still forbidden.

“Ye must stop asking me personal questions.” She was breathless and certain he heard the tattletale sound.

“Ah, ye are referring to when I asked ye if Achaius hurt ye?” His tone was husky, and it awakened all the yearnings she’d tried to smother since he had kissed her. “What I really wanted to ask was did he please ye?”

He gently stroked her cheeks, sending a jolt of delight through her. It was so intense, her knees felt like they were wobbling. The wall behind her was suddenly welcome support.

“Or make ye blush, as I do?”

He didn’t give her the chance to answer. His warm breath teased her lips a moment before he satisfied her longings with a kiss. She trembled, unable to control her body. He cupped her cheek as his lips began to tease her. The tip of his tongue traced her lower lip, then pressed her to open her mouth for a deeper kiss.

There was no considering her actions. She reached for him, slipping her hands into the open collar of his doublet and shirt. His skin was incredibly warm, hot really, and impossible to resist.

She wanted to touch him and kiss him. His kiss became demanding, his tongue thrusting into her mouth in an intimate invasion. Excitement knotted her belly, drawing her thoughts to her mons. Hidden between the folds of her sex, her clitoris began to pulse. Gahan pressed her against him, smoothing a hand down her back until he could cup one side of her bottom.

It was bold and exactly what she wanted. But the hard outline of his cock broke through the spell.

“No…no…I cannae do this to ye.” She shoved away from him, bumping against the wall again. Gahan didn’t give her any more space than that.

“Do what to me, lass?”

Only a sliver of moonlight made it through an archer’s slit to break the darkness. But it was enough to cast his features in silver. His expression was dark and unyielding, demanding an answer.

A
confession…

She had no will to deny him, only the need to be done with Bari’s pretenses.

“Use ye.” She shivered. “I cannae deceive everyone.”

“Deceive in what way?”

He wasn’t going to allow her to escape easily. But the truth was often harsh. Yet she found it more bearable than the torment of guilt.

“Achaius didn’t…didn’t…I fell asleep before he arrived.”

Gahan cupped her jaw, his eyes steady on hers. “Who bloodied the sheet?”

“I do nae know. Yet it was nae me. I would have done me duty.”

She could feel him weighing her words. He was a man who lived by his instincts, and they served him well. But she stared into his eyes, for she had nothing to hide.

“I believe ye.”

Three words had never pleased her so much. She smiled, caught in a rush of relief. But she also had to recall the facts of the matter. She pushed at his chest and ducked under his arm.

“I should go now.”

He chuckled, the sound full of promise. “Nay lass, that is nae what ye need.” He reached out and gripped her wrist. “But since ye’re a maiden still, I suppose it’s something ye would nae understand just yet.”

He didn’t give her a chance to answer him. With a firm tug, he pulled her toward him, but he leaned over, and she went right over his shoulder. A second later he was striding down the dark hallway with her hanging over his shoulder like a new kill.

“Gahan—”

He pushed open a door then kicked it shut behind them. Wherever they were, it was dark. He reached for something, and a moment later he opened a window shutter that allowed the moonlight in. She had only a brief moment to notice it was a window before he pulled her off his shoulder and caught her in his arms.

“Stop talking, Moira. Ye and I agree far more often when we are nae talking.”

He turned, and she saw the bed for the first time. It was far less grand than the one Achaius was snoring away in, but Gahan tossed her onto it and followed her. His weight was so pleasing. She gasped as he settled on top of her, taking some of his bulk on his elbows. Clearly he was more experienced in bed sport than she.

“This is wrong.” It was what she should say. What the Church would demand was right. Yet that was so opposite of what she felt.

Gahan stroked her cheek and angled his head to place a kiss against her neck. Sweet sensation went rippling through her body, and she reached for his shoulders to keep him near.

“It feels very right to me, lass.” He kissed her neck again and again until he found her collarbone. She arched toward him, anticipation threatening to drive all sense from her head.

His hands settled over the swells of her breasts, stroking the sensitive flesh. Suddenly he pushed back and stood up, cold air rushing across her body. But Gahan quickly pulled her up and tugged at the laces holding her overgown closed. Her undergown followed, and he shrugged out of his doublet, then pressed her back down on the bed.

“No protest?” he teased.

“It would be a lie,” she admitted. The last few days had been too full of deception. So she reached for him, for the one thing she craved, and Gahan didn’t hesitate.

His kiss was stronger this time, more demanding and more purposeful. Somehow, she understood what he wanted; in some deep part of her mind she longed for it, too. But she didn’t know what to do, her hands moving clumsily as she tried to touch him in return.

He groaned, and she jerked her hands back.

“Now do nae do that,” he admonished gently. “That was a sound of enjoyment.”

He rose up onto his knees again and unbuckled his kilt. It fell down to cover her, then he sent it over the edge of the bed. The buckle made a sharp sound when it hit the floor, but she was too absorbed with watching him strip his shirt off to care.

She’d seen a cock before—at least she thought she had.

Working with the hawks had afforded her a few accidental viewings of the Fraser retainers chasing the maids. Gahan didn’t look anything like them—and she’d never been fascinated before.

She reached out, gently touching his erection. The skin was smooth as glass, but warm.

“Sweet Christ.”

He groaned again, but she gained confidence from the sound and an amazing sense of belief in her own ability. She closed her fingers around his shaft and pressed her hand all the way to the base of it.

He sucked in his breath, then settled down on top of her again. “Two can play that game, Moira.”

He captured her lips in a kiss that drove the last of her wits away. She didn’t try to recall them, either. Instead, she twisted, trying to press herself against him completely. Need and yearning were pulsing through her, flooding her to the point of drowning, and all she wanted to do was sink into them. She parted her thighs and clamped them around his hips. The next groan that filled the room came from her as he settled against her spread sex. Her clitoris erupted with pleasure, urging her to raise her hips.

“If all I wanted was a quick tumble, I would nae have brought ye here. The wall behind the tapestries would have done well enough.” He moved down her length, pulling the neck of her chemise low to bare her breasts. His warm breath teased one puckered nipple as he hovered over it. “I want more.”

His eyes glittered as he locked stares with her. “Much more.”

He cupped her breast, sending delight across her skin. How had she failed to notice how sensitive her breasts were? His touch lit a new flame of need inside her. It was deeper, hotter, and more intense. Her heart raced, but she didn’t care if it burst. Her lungs struggled to keep pace, and she smiled, because her rapid breaths drew his scent into her senses.

He smelled good. Like solid strength.

The moonlight showed her the tip of his tongue as he extended it toward her nipple. Anticipation held her in a tight grip before the first contact made it snap. She cried out, unable to remain silent. Her body had never felt so much, so deeply before. It was swirling through her, pooling in her passage. Gahan captured her nipple between his lips, and it felt like the hard point was connected to her clitoris.

The little bud throbbed for attention—a demand, not a request. He kissed a trail to her other nipple, sucking it as intently as he had its twin. Her eyes closed as she arched up to offer her breasts to him. But it wasn’t enough. She reached for his head, threading her hands through his hair. She tightened her legs around him, pulling him toward her. He released her nipple and smoothed a hand down her body. Her skin was ultrasensitive, and his hand felt perfect against it, as though she hadn’t realized what her body was for until that moment.

He paused at the top of her mons, teasing the curls. It was such a forbidden place that she lifted her head and looked toward him once more. Anticipation brightened his eyes, and the silver moonlight bathed every hard muscle covering his body.

“I do nae care to cause ye pain.”

He pushed through the curls and between the folds of her sex. She gasped, frozen by the sheer shock of the intimacy.

“Since it cannae be avoided, I will give ye pleasure before I take me own.”

His tone was thick with promise. She shivered, anticipation returning to needle her, but the reason was unclear. “You have already given me pleasure.”

His teeth flashed at her. “But a taste of true rapture, lass.”

His meaning still eluded her. She opened her lips to ask him to explain, but his finger moved. Positioned directly on top of her clitoris, the single movement sent a bolt of delight down her passage. It thrilled her, yet at the same time increased the need twisting inside her.

“Let me show ye, Moira.”

He wasn’t asking permission. It almost sounded like a boast, but he began to move his finger again, making thought impossible. He rubbed her clitoris and then circled it. She jerked, her hips rising up to press against his finger, but he trailed it through the center of her slit. Sweat popped out on her forehead as he circled the opening to her passage. Inside her body, the walls of it felt like they were tightening in an attempt to grasp him.

But she wanted more than his finger. She curled up off the bed, desperate to gain satisfaction.