Lost in the Highlands, Volume One

by Lorraine Beaumont

  “Fine,” she sighed as that flair of annoyance shot through her again. “Now,” she said, lifting the deck. “How many cards do you want?”

  “I do not want any.”

  “You have to want at least one.”

  “Nay, I do not.”

  “Well, I am taking four.” She lifted her Ace of Spades and showed him.

  “Why are ye showing me yer cards? Are we done then?”

  “No, but to get four cards I have to show you an Ace.” She took four cards off the deck. She had two measly pairs, which consisted of two queens, and a pair of eights.

  “Now what?” he asked, looking quite pleased with the hand she dealt him.

  “You can bet again or call.”

  Again, he gave her a curious look. “Call?”

  “Yeah, you ask me to show you my cards.”

  “All right,” he said as his lips curved upward into one of his heart-stopping smiles again. “I’ll call ye.”

  “Two pairs, Ace high,” she said and laid down her cards. “What do you have?”

  “Ye tell me.” He shrugged his shoulders and laid down his cards.

  Paige couldn’t believe her eyes. He had four Kings and an Ace to boot. “You win,” she said grudgingly.

  “That was fun.”

  “Sure, it was, since you won,” she muttered as she gathered the cards.

  “Do I get my massage now?”

  “I guess,” she told him as she slid the cards back into the little souvenir wooden box with Grandfather Mountain Logo imprinted on the top.

  “Good.” He loosened his shirt from his kilt, flipped around on the bed, and pillowed his head on top of his arms.

  After she set the cards on the trunk, she gathered up her skirts and climbed across the bed to his side. “I should probably get on your back. It would be easier.”

  “Ye do what ye must,” he muttered into his elbow, already sounding half-asleep.

  “Alrighty then,” she grumbled as that familiar flair of annoyance shot through her again. Lifting her skirts, she straddled his waist. Careful not to put her full weight down on him, she rubbed her hands together to warm them and then placed them on his muscled back. His shirt bunched under her hands as she squeezed.

  “Och, lass, that feels nice.”

  Pressing down, she massaged the knots from his shoulders and slid her hands over every hard plane, following the dip in the center of his back to the point where his bottom was curving upward. His shirt was loose and she slid her hands under the fabric as her fingers caressed his warmed skin. It felt like velvet, actually, better than velvet—he had the softest skin she had ever felt, much like a newborn. Her fingers slid down farther to the point that the tips were touching the curve of his bottom again and kneaded there. He made a groaning sound and a delicious surge of heat shot between her legs. It was a definite turn on to touch him in such an intimate way. With each stroke, her fingers slid lower and his muscles tensed. Meticulously, she kept up her rigorous massage, and every groan he made gave her another delicious quiver of delight as she pressed down against him all the while wishing he would turn over so she could really press down.

  “Should I turn around so ye can massage the front of me as well?” he asked as though he had just read her mind.

  “Sure, if you like,” she said trying to sound sexy.

  “Ye all right, lass?” he asked sounding concerned.

  “Yes,” she swallowed hard… “Why?” she tried for sexy again.

  “Ye sound like ye swallowed a frog.”

  Oh my …! “Just a scratch in my throat,” she lied baldly.

  “If ye say so…” He turned so quickly she was almost dislodged from the top of him. Grabbing her hips, he steadied her and adjusted his hips underneath so his erection was situated directly between her thighs. Another burst of heat shot up between her legs. Once she saw his face, she wasn’t sure him turning over was such a good idea. It was hard not to stare at him, harder still not to lean forward and kiss those inviting irresistible lips of his.

  “Are ye comfortable, lass?”

  Her eyes met his heavy-lidded gaze and she had all she could do to breathe let alone speak.

  She nodded instead.

  Gently squeezing her hips, he urged her to continue. At least that is what she thought he was trying to tell her.

  Who knew, but she was going for it.

  Leaning forward, she placed her hands on his taut stomach, and pressed her palms down on his six-pack. Each muscle cut perfectly in the flat of his stomach. Granted, she had seen him completely naked in the tub but this was altogether a new experience for her and she decided right then and there it was one of the most erotic things she had ever done with a man.

  The firelight danced across his face, shadowing his eyes in the darkness as her fingers climbed up each hill and dipped down into the cut valleys where each muscle was compartmentalized. Her body responded, and each time she moved her hands, she dipped down against his erection to the point he was pressed right against her.

  His fingers kneaded her hips as hers became bolder, climbing up to his chiseled chest and retreating down to the point where his hipbones cut another valley into the warm velvet muscle she was exploring.

  Sliding her hands down lower, her fingers followed the slight line of hair that disappeared down underneath his kilt. He removed his hands from her hips as she dipped down against him once again and for a moment, she tensed, thinking he may want her to stop…then he reached up and filled his palms with her breasts and his thumbs slid over her nipples sending an electric surge straight through her. She gasped in pleasure at the same time he groaned.

  In an instant, he was sitting up, and she was flush against his erection. One hand went to her back, holding her as he buried his face in her cleavage. The rough scruff of his unshaved face rubbed against her skin sending another delicious shiver through my body. Before she could think a coherent thought, his tongue slipped in between her breast, making her arch against him more. Then his mouth traveled from one nipple and over to the other, then his lips climbed upward again to her neck. When his mouth found hers again, she no longer cared what she was thinking. Nothing mattered except what he was doing, right this very instant, that they were together.

  A low feral growl emitted from deep in his throat as he somehow managed to move her from his lap and onto her back. He came over her, leveraging on his elbows.

  “Get comfortable, lass,” he instructed.

  Feeling shy suddenly, she grabbed hold of one of the furs as she leaned back against the pillows.

  He sat back on his feet. “Nay, lass,” he said, his voice raspy with desire.

  Slowly he pulled the fur away.

  She backed up as far as she could go.

  Giving her a devilish grin, he lifted up her gown.

  Then he disappeared.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  LOCH MORAR, SCOTLAND

  Sometime during the reign of King James

  Twisting the sheets, her head butted up against the top of the bed. He was between her legs, his mouth, his tongue, touching her intimately. Reflexively, she tried to close her legs, but he pressed his hands against her thighs, keeping her legs wide as his tongue flicked against her repeatedly, bringing her so close to the edge, she thought she might just tumble over.

  Suddenly he stopped and pulled back out from under her gown. His hair mussed and he had a slight sheen of her desire on his mouth as he hovered above her. She forced herself not to grab hold of him and bury his face between her legs again.

  His lips turned up into a smug smile. “I see ye don’t find me so repulsive now, do ye?”

  “No.” She shook her head. Wait… who the hell said he was repulsive? Not me…or did I? For some reason she couldn’t remember, but he was anything but. She shook her head again. “Gavin…”

  “Laird,” he said.

  “Laird,” she repeated.

  A triumphant look crossed his face as he slid his hand slowly up
her leg to the wetness between her thighs.

  She moaned and squirmed against his hand.

  “That is more like it.”

  Her body was on fire, she felt like a bow too tightly strung that she would snap at any given moment.

  ♦

  Gavin wasn’t sure what to make of the lass in his bed. Her amber eyes glazed with passion and he knew she wanted him, but she would not tell him. And as much as he hated to admit it to himself, he wanted to hear her say she wanted him. He needed her to say it… with words, not just her body and how she responded to him. Even now, he could smell her sweet scent still lingering in his nostrils and her salty taste, still on his tongue.

  “Say it, lass…” he prodded.

  “What?” she played dumb, not wanting to tip her hand—whenever she told a man how she felt everything always went downhill from there.

  “Tell me, ye want me...” he coaxed.

  She was going to put up a fight, not wanting to make the same mistakes with him as she had in the past but then, she just couldn’t. What would be the point? Self-deprivation was never her strong suit anyway. All her attempts at dieting had gone to the wayside too. “I do.”

  “Ye do…what?” His brow lifted.

  “For God’s sake!” she sighed. “Fine, I want you. Are you happy now?”

  “Aye, lass, more than ye will ever know,” he said with meaning.

  Dipping down, his mouth found hers again and in moments, he had positioned himself outside her wet welcoming warmth. Letting out a feral growl, he captured her mouth at the same time he thrust inside, filling her completely.

  On and on, he continued his onslaught, making her writhe and moan. His name on her lips as her fingers dug into his muscular back. He thrust inside of her again. And when she didn’t think she could take any more, he retreated.

  Continuing his rigorous pace, she writhed against him. His hips dipped down, slowing. Clenching his muscled-buttocks, he met her hips once more. Not able to help herself, she cried out.

  “That’s it, lass,” he encouraged, reveling in the sweet torture he was eliciting.

  She tightened against him. Gavin moaned. He was beyond himself, beyond anything he had ever known, he increased his tempo, pumping harder, faster. Her hands shoved into his hair, pulling and clawing his back. Slicked in sweat he pumped faster, harder, pushing her, pushing himself, until she finally lost all control.

  As she shattered against him, she cried out, “I love you.”

  Gavin met her cries of passion with his own as he too finally slid right over the edge alongside her. Panting and covered in sweat, he smoothed his hand over her sweat-dampened hair and as the last of the tremors faded, the words she had said finally penetrated his brain. They were a spear to his heart, settling deep inside filling him with soul-deep pleasure that he had not known before, even when he was with Jillian. The girl he thought was his one and only… true love.

  Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead to hers, staring deeply into her eyes. “Lass, did ye say what I thought ye said?”

  She stared up into his blue-green almond shaped eyes and could see what it cost him to ask that seemingly simple question. She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, my Laird, I do love you.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “So, ye finally admit what I’ve known all along.”

  “Hey…” She pushed against his sweat-dampened chest. “Watch it or else I may have to take it back.”

  “Nay, lass ye can not take it back.” His face grew serious. “I already have it locked tightly away right in here,” he touched his hand to his heart, “and I won’t be giving ye back the key.”

  In that moment, she fell completely, unequivocally, in love with him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  LOCH MORAR, SCOTLAND

  Sometime during the reign of King James

  Gavin stayed awake for some time after the lass declared her love for him. It warmed his heart. With her head on his shoulder, he smoothed his fingers through her hair, starring up at the darkened ceiling, wondering what he was going to do. He needed a sacrifice when the moon was full again. But how could he do that to her knowing how she felt about him, and also knowing how he felt about her even though he did not utter the words out loud. Deep in his heart he knew the answer. But if he did nothing, surely his men would. Not having any answers readily available, he slowly albeit reluctantly, drifted off into a restless slumber.

  ♦

  The following morning when she woke, Paige was surprised and a little upset to find she was alone in bed. Rolling over, she hugged his pillow, smelling his heady scent as her mind rehashed the best night of her life.

  Being with Gavin was…wow. Really that was the only word she could find that remotely came close to what she had experienced with him. And even though he didn’t tell her that he loved her too, she convinced herself that he did.

  Reluctantly, she released his pillow, climbed from bed and got ready for the day. As she walked to the screen, she felt sore but she didn’t care. She just had the best sex of her life and a few aches and pains were well worth it. If she had her way, she would be this way every morning.

  ♦

  Later in the day, after she finished her chores, she went down to watch the men train. Sitting in her favorite gawking spot, she watched her highlander hack away at his opponent as though he was battling a demon…not one of his men.

  Paige didn’t know what to make of it. Shouldn’t he be in a good mood? She knew she was.

  The longer she watched though, the more unsettled she became. It seemed as though darkness was shrouding everything. Even the skies above had an ominous quality to them.

  Once they were finishing training, she slipped away up the well-worn path towards the castle to check on dinner. An abundance of wildflowers dotted the path. Paige stopped and bent over to pick some for the table.

  After she gathered a good- sized bouquet, she stood back up. Heavy dark clouds moved across the horizon as day faded into night. Blades of green grass slid over on its side as the wind pushed its way across the rolling fields.

  Taking a deep breath, she clutched the flowers in her hand and started back up the steep incline. Almost to the top, her skin prickled. It was same feeling she got in the castle a few days ago. She felt as though someone was watching her.

  She tried to ignore it, the funky feeling, chalking it up to her overactive imagination and kept walking up the path to get supper on the table and start the water boiling for the baths.

  As Paige rounded the corner, she pulled up short.

  Broderick, her least favorite highlander, was leaning against the wall, his massive frame crowding the pathway.

  Paige had a sudden urge to run back the way she came but she squashed it down, and started walking again.

  Broderick leered at her as she tried to pass. “What are ye about, witch?” he scathed the word.

  “I’m not a witch.” She tried to step past him.

  He scoffed. “I know what ye are.” A glimmer of something akin to hate filled his eyes as he blocked her way. “There is no need ta lie ta me.”

  “I’m not lying to you,” she snipped, hoping to put an end to the conversation once and for all. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have chores to attend to.” She took another step.

  He grabbed her arm roughly and jerked her backward. The flowers she had just picked scattered down on the dirty path.

  “Not so fast, lass,” he scathed as his fingers cut into her arm.

  “What do you want?” She jerked her arm but it did no good. He was holding on too tightly.

  “Only the same as our Laird, I want ye ta tell me what ye know about the treasure.”

  “What treasure?” Paige had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Come now, lass. I can keep a secret. I swear if ye confide in me, I will help ye escape when the time comes.”

  “Why would I need to escape?” She tried to pry his fingers off her arm, but instead of letting go, he tig
htened his hold.

  He gave her a dubious look. “Ah, he didn’t tell ye about the treasure you are supposed to retrieve?”

  “No. I know nothing about a treasure.” He pulled her closer and his heady scent filled her nostrils, making her stomach churn.

  He smiled but it wasn’t nice in the least. “So ye don’t know.”

  “I already told you that I don’t anything about a treasure,” she told him. “Now, could you please let me go, I have supper to prepare.”

  “Och, what are ye doing?” a male voice sounded from behind.

  He loosened his hold and she jerked her arm away.

  “Mind yer business, Callum,” snapped Broderick.

  Callum walked closer. His eyes, the same green blue shade as her highlander, flitted back and forth between Paige and Broderick. “She is my business. I am supposed to help her get water for our baths.”

  “Says who?”

  “Our Laird, that’s who,” Callum said pulling himself up to his full height, which was still several inches beneath Broderick and nowhere near his girth.

  Broderick leaned down close so Callum couldn’t hear. “I’ll be watching ye,” he said and then stalked off down the path towards the fields.

  An eerie sense of dread filled her as she watched his departing form.

  “Lass, are ye all right?”

  “Yes,” she said, rubbing her arm where Broderick had squeezed it.

  “Was he troubling ye?”

  “No,” she lied. “He was just asking me about supper.”

  His brows creased with concern. “Are ye sure?”

  “Yes. I am sure.”

  He gave her a doubtful look but didn’t press the issue. “Come, lass, I will walk with ye.” He extended his arm.

  Thankful for the support, Paige put her arm through his. Arm in arm, they walked back to the castle leaving her lovely bouquet of flowers behind in the dirt.