Sins of the Highlander (A Highland Erotic Romance) (9 page)

With only a twinge of surprise, she realized she loved this particular form of lovemaking. Once, she might have considered a man invading a woman’s mouth in such a way obscene, but with Niall, it was beautiful. He was solid and hard beneath her, strong and masculine, flowing beneath her lips, tongue and fingers.

And she could feel him flowing, could feel his seed boiling, rushing upward from his sac to the slit at the top of his cock. His hands suddenly tightened over her shoulders. “Don’t stop,” he ground out. But she was hardly moving. He was doing all the work, thrusting his cock deep into her mouth, touching her throat but retreating just before she started to choke.

“Oh…Christ.” And then he pressed the back of her head down over his cock and she was locked into place, helpless, as his seed pumped into her mouth.

Moaning, she swallowed his creamy semen as it invaded her throat. She was consumed by lust, mad with it. When the contractions began to subside, she milked him again, prolonging his release, loving the feel of him dribbling helplessly into her mouth.

When at last it was over, his grip loosened. Then his big hands wrapped around her waist and hoisted her up onto his lap.

“Thank you.” Holding her close, surrounding her with his big, strong body, he feathered his lips over her ear. Once again she felt ensconced by him, protected and small.

“Did you like it?” she asked, gazing up at him. He looked amazed, humbled, overwhelmed.

He squeezed her tighter, nuzzling his face in her hair. “Aye.”

Aileen pressed her forehead against his chest, smiling. “I’m glad.”

He shifted so she sat beside him on the edge of the cart and whispered against her cheek. “Your turn.”

“We should go back.”

“Not yet. We still have a few moments.”

“There’s no time. Iain will be worried.”

“I’m not letting you go until you’ve come for me, Aileen.”

“But—” Her words were cut off as he clamped his mouth over hers and yanked up the hem of her dress. He held her firm, helpless. And though she knew Iain would come looking for them soon, her legs opened, welcoming Niall’s invasion.

As soon as she spread her thighs, his fingers slid over her creamy center. His hand tangled in her hair and his tongue curled with hers. Aileen moaned, already feeling the mounting tension.

She wrapped her arms around Niall and clung to him, feeling his heat and hard muscle through the wool of their clothing. Burying her face in his neck, she gasped as he parted her inner lips and dipped his fingers inside. His free arm slid down her back, pulling her closer.

A twig snapped outside. 

Aileen gasped and tried to jerk away. “Someone’s coming!”

“Shh.” Niall held her even more tightly against him. “There’s time. Come for me.”

He pressed his thumb to that oh-so-sensitive spot above her sheath, and she squirmed.

“Let go, Aileen.”

“Someone’s coming,” she moaned.

“You are.” He circled his thumb, pressing his fingers in deeper, curling them so they slid against a place that nearly made her jump out of her skin.

“Oh!” she breathed.

She heard shuffling noises from outside. A horse whinnied close by.

But Niall was thrusting into her, touching her, kissing her. Taking her higher and higher. Her whole body vibrated like the strings of a lute.

Shuddering, she ground her pelvis into his hand. Her head dropped back. And then he skimmed his thumb over that spot again. She clamped her legs shut, trapping him between her legs. Powerful tremors raced through her, down her legs. Her sheath rippled around his fingers. Niall whispered words of encouragement in her ear.

The door to the barn creaked loudly.

Niall slowly withdrew his fingers from her still-shuddering center. And drew away, pulling her skirt down.

He jumped down from the wagon bed. Aileen looked up, her vision fuzzy around the edges, as Iain approached.

“Are you all right, Lady Aileen?”

She smiled at the worry in his voice.

“The lady was feeling faint, so I led her inside to sit for a moment.” Niall turned to her, his brows drawn together in concern. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much,” she murmured. “It was a temporary affliction, I think. In fact, I feel much relieved. Perhaps you will escort me back to the inn, Niall?”

He inclined his head respectfully. “Of course, lady.”

Iain led the way back to the inn. Aileen followed, side by side with Niall, unable to prevent the smile that tipped her lips upward.

“I will petition the laird for your hand,” Niall whispered in her ear.

“And I will offer him my lands as a concession,” she murmured back to him. A small bud of hope grew inside her. “Perhaps he will agree to our proposal.”

Yet she knew her brother well. He coveted land. He coveted power, especially in his quest to dominate the MacDonalds.

“We must try.”

“Aye,” she said softly. Knowing hope shined in her eyes, she glanced up at him. “We must try.”

Chapter Eight

Five days later, they arrived at Ellandonan soaked through, for the rain had returned that night at the inn and hadn’t relented. Finally, Aileen convinced Niall that they must get to Ellandonan whether it was raining or not. It had taken two muddy, grueling days, but their party made it to the castle safe and hale but cold and wet to the bone.

Niall, as she’d expected, promptly disappeared, and to her dismay, Aileen learned that the laird had left Ellandonan a week ago to meet with a Lowland earl. Their party wasn’t expected to return for at least a fortnight.

She didn’t know what to think when she learned that Gilbert Dunbar had gone with her brother, but it worried her.

Aileen tried to occupy herself with becoming reacquainted with the laird’s children and his young wife. But Aileen’s outgoing nature had suffered after having been trapped in a lonely, loveless marriage for so long, and she sat alone in the garden today, as she often did, contemplating her predicament.

What did it mean that Gilbert had gone with the laird? Had he and John become close? Aileen crushed a bit of thyme between her fingers, inhaling the sweet, sharp scent, and looked out over the garden. Leaves glistened in the bright sunlight, still wet from the recent rainfalls. She turned her gaze up to the blue, cloud-speckled sky.

Surely John was shrewd enough to see through Gilbert. Surely he wouldn’t force her into marriage with such a loathsome boor.

Her one consolation in the midst of her loneliness was that Niall remained nearby, waiting for the laird as she was. She knew he had remained steadfast in his devotion, a fact which soothed her and at the same time made her worry for his safety. She prayed he did nothing rash.

The castle occupants dined together in the great hall, and she saw him there, among his men, every day. Last night, she’d fought not to meet his gaze, but it had inexorably drawn her in. The look of raw longing she’d seen in his blue eyes made her heart patter wildly, made the blood rush beneath her skin in a torrent. Her limbs trembled, her skin flushed. Her nipples brushed painfully against the wool of her dress. A heaviness had pooled in her womb and flooded her body with tingling lust.

Her primal feelings must be blatant to anyone who cared enough to look. And she couldn’t risk Niall like that. At all costs, she would keep her eyes on more mundane things at dinner tonight.

“Auntie Aileen!”

Startled, Aileen dropped the crushed thyme and turned to the source of the voice. A lass approached, giving her a bright, dimpled smile. It was the laird’s daughter, Margaret. The only child born of John’s first marriage, Margaret was a happy, beloved child hovering on the cusp of womanhood.

Surely a man who cared for his own daughter so deeply wouldn’t offer his sister to the wolves.

Smiling, Aileen rose. “Good afternoon, Margaret.”

“Do come inside with me, Auntie.” Margaret grasped Aileen’s hand and towed her toward the castle, her slipper-clad feet skipping over the rough, graveled path. “We have had wonderful news! Papa is due back tomorrow. And the courier said he brings good tidings.”

Aileen’s heart constricted. “That is excellent news indeed,” she managed to choke out.

In its own way, it was very good news. At least this confusing state of purgatory she’d found herself in would soon come to an end.

Aileen dragged reluctantly after the lass and prayed she wasn’t headed for a new kind of hell.

***

Niall paused at the threshold, but the Mackenzie instantly spotted him and waved him inside his bedchamber. Moving forward, Niall sank into a low bow before his laird.

“Up, up,” Mackenzie said. He was sitting on a high stool, wearing nothing but a rough, homespun tunic, his face covered with shaving lotion. A servant stood beside him, swiping a glistening blade over his cheek.

“So why the eagerness to see me, Niall? I gather you’ve brought my sister safely to Ellandonan? Didn’t encounter any damned cutthroats along the way, I hope?”

Niall tensed. Thank God they hadn’t, though he knew the laird was having a hell of a time of keeping outlaws from robbing innocent travelers on Highland roads. “Nay, sir. We traveled safely. Lady Aileen and her people are well.”

“Good, good.” Mackenzie grinned widely, showing big yellow teeth. He waved the valet away and leaned forward in the stool. “Have you heard the word of my coup in the Lowlands?”

“I have not, sir.”

“Well, thanks to some timely negotiation by Gilbert Dunbar, I have just come from signing the documents to marry my daughter Margaret to the Earl of Dolphinton.”

Niall took a step back, raising his brow. To align with Dolphinton would be a coup for the Mackenzie laird. But how had it happened? Who was this Gilbert Dunbar?

“I am sending her to the Lowlands as soon as can be arranged.”

“An excellent match, sir.”

Mackenzie turned his shrewd gaze upon Niall. “It is indeed.” He sighed, a smile playing around his lips. “And though the benefits to me are vast and obvious, I cannot help but be pleased to have made such a match for my daughter. Now she will be a countess, a title she deserves. And I must confess that I have taken a liking to the earl as well. He will be good to her.”

Niall nodded. Mackenzie’s affection for his first daughter was no secret to anyone.

“But you have come to ask me something.” Mackenzie motioned to the servant to resume shaving him. “What could it be?”

Though his mouth suddenly felt dry, Niall couldn’t balk now. “I have been your loyal servant for many years, sir. I have served you alongside you in France and Spain during the Four Years’ War—”

The laird pinned him with narrowed blue eyes. “I know who you are and I know every deed you’ve accomplished on my behalf. There is no need to waste my time by rehashing all of them. Get to the point, MacRae.”

Niall bowed his head in acquiescence. “I have come to ask for your permission to marry your sister.” When the Mackenzie gave him a blank look, Niall added, “Lady Aileen.”

For a moment, the room was silent. The razor scraped against Mackenzie’s skin. And then the laird pushed the razor away and burst out in laughter. Niall stared at the floor, forcing his fists not to clench as the laird’s mirth swirled around him, squeezed his chest and suffocated him.

Mackenzie wrapped his arms around his belly. Recovering between chuckles, he said, “Do you realize how many men have asked me for fair Aileen’s hand? How many of you greedy bastards desire her lands? And she is fair to look upon, isn’t she? I daresay having her in your beds appeals as well.”

Niall met his laird’s eyes, his cheeks burning. He didn’t want to think of any of the other men who’d asked for her hand. He knew their motives had no connection whatever to his own.

“Eight.” Mackenzie’s hands flew up into the air in a gesture of amazement. “Did you hear me? Eight! And the other seven had much more to offer than you, MacRae. You are lowborn, landless and penniless—far less worthy than any of the others.”

“I have been loyal and faithful to you,” Niall ground out.

“That you have.” The laird shrugged. “But so have many others. What has that to do with anything?”

“I care naught for her lands,” Niall said stiffly.

“Oh, aye.” Mackenzie snorted. “Be that as it may, my answer to you is no.”

“I will take good care of her,” Niall pressed. “I will prove to be a worthy husband.”

John blew out a frustrated breath. “Sure you realize that there must needs be more to my decision than soothing my loyal warrior’s fancy for my alluring sister?”

“I admire and respect her. Deeply.” Niall’s face was on fire.

The laird narrowed his eyes. “Admiration and respect mean nothing in a marriage. You lust after my sister, do you? Well then, go pound your frustrated cock into one of the castle wenches and you’ll forget about Aileen by morning. In fact, despite what some might say to the contrary, I am generous. I shall send Agnes to you tonight.” His tongue ran over his lips. “You’ll enjoy her, I daresay. She’s one of my favorites.”

Niall wasn’t moved. “No thank you.”

The laird merely snorted. “We’ll see.”

“I am in…I am very fond of Aileen, sir. We have known each other for many years. If you recall, I was fostered at Dornoch. She feels the same.”

“Does she?” John slid to his feet and took a step toward Niall, tilting his head, his eyes glinting dangerously. “‘Aileen.’ So you speak of her familiarly, do you? Are you so well-acquainted with her? Have you been fucking my sister, MacRae?”

Niall straightened. He couldn’t lie to the laird. Nor did he want to. If he couldn’t have her, he was more than willing to face whatever price the Mackenzie would have him pay for his sins.

Yet he didn’t want Aileen to suffer for what they’d done.

As he hesitated, the laird raised a hand. “Wait. Don’t speak.” He took another step forward, and now he and Niall were within arm’s length of each other. “I don’t want to hear it,” he said under his breath. “I trusted you with my sister’s life and with her virtue. You know what must be done if I ever learned of such a breach of honor from you.”