Owned by the Highlanders

by Lily Harlem

  She shifted away and managed a glance downward.

  Kendal raised his head and stared down at her pulsating cunny. A soft sheen of her moisture sat on his chin and he was working his cock fast. He gritted his teeth and pulled back his lips. With his breath held, chest puffed up, he released his pleasure. It spurted from the tip of his cock and spattered over her inner thigh.

  “Jesus Christ,” he gasped.

  “Get ready,” Reid said.

  A slick of pre-cum coated her palate as Reid’s pace picked up. He took her mouth in several fast plunges then he too was coming.

  Her orgasm was still fluttering in her pussy as he shot his cum down her throat.

  She swallowed fast, taking him all. He was so damn sexy, and knowing how much he was enjoying her like this added to the wonderful sensations coursing around her body.

  “Ah, my love, you are so precious.” Reid’s voice was breathy. “So precious to us.”

  He held still for several heartbeats, his shaft throbbing, then withdrew.

  Moira gulped in air. Her chest was tight, her body felt as if it were high and floating.

  “You’re the sweetest find,” Kendal said, leaning over her. “A rare gemstone.”

  “Kendal.” She touched his cheek, his stubble rough on her palm. “That was…”

  He smiled. A cocky grin that told her he knew what she was about to say. “Aye, it was as good for me as it was for you, but next time I come, with Reid’s permission, I’ll be inside you.”

  “You have my permission,” Reid said.

  “He does?” She wiped her damp lips.

  “Aye, seeing you together is sexy and when it comes to my best friend, I’m not going to have a problem with jealousy.”

  “I appreciate that,” Kendal said, still grinning at her. “Because she’s quite irresistible, even if she is out of practice at obeying her master.”

  “Masters,” Reid added.

  * * *

  Moira fell asleep that night pressed close to Reid and with his arms around her. Their bed was a sack placed on a pile of dry grass, but at least they had a blanket.

  A far cry from her four-poster back at Leannan Creag with its starched sheets and plump pillows, Moira was sure it was one of the nicest beds she’d ever slept on. For in it was Reid.

  Just as the night cooled and a shiver took hold of her spine, she was aware of another body moving close. Kendal.

  He pressed his chest to her back, and his legs bent in line with hers so his body heat filtered into her. For a moment she was surprised he’d joined them, but then she thought about what Reid had said.

  ‘When it comes to my best friend, I’m not going to have a problem with jealousy.’

  It was clear Reid was happy to share her.

  Share me!

  But what about after they were wed? Would he still allow Reid to touch her intimately then? Spank her, discipline her?

  She knew the answer to that question without having to ask it. Reid and Kendal were as close as brothers. They relied on each other through thick and thin. Their commitment to the cause had left their love lives lacking and now they’d found her.

  And it certainly didn’t feel as if they were about to let her go.

  She sighed a little and allowed sleep to claim her. Locked within two thick muscular bodies, she felt the safest and most satisfied she had in a long time.

  When she woke, she opened her eyes expecting to see Reid’s face, with his paler skin and dust of reddish stubble. But it was Kendal she was pressed up against with her face nestled in the crook of his shoulder.

  He was awake, lying still and looking at the leaves fluttering in the trees above them. The air smelled heavy with dew, too heavy, as if rain was on the way.

  She reached behind herself and felt for Reid. He was there, snoring gently, his breaths fluttering through her hair.

  “Good morn to you,” Kendal said quietly and rubbed her shoulder. “I’m sorry the bed wasn’t to your usual standard.”

  “It was perfectly comfortable.”

  “Good.” He smiled.

  “You slept well?” she asked, marvelling at how natural it felt to wake in his arms.

  “Aye, I dreamed of you.”

  “You did?”

  “Aye, we were on a beach, in Skye, have you been?”

  “No.”

  “It’s beautiful, some of God’s greatest work. Sand the colour of the sun on the hottest day of the summer. The sea matches the sky, and there’s these little waves that ride in like white seahorses, all fluffy and soft.”

  “It sounds lovely.”

  “It is; the dream was too.”

  She was quiet.

  “I dreamed we were naked, walking on the beach. We had a blanket spread with food, everything you could think of. And we swam in the sea, then ate, and then I made love to you, from behind, so I could admire your pretty ass.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “A very detailed dream.”

  “Aye.”

  “And was Reid in it?”

  “Not to start with, then he joined in our fun.”

  “Aye, of course I would.” Reid chuckled and ran his hand over her ass. “It would be rude not to.”

  Chapter Twelve

  They rode all day, Moira sitting in front of Kendal again. This time she enjoyed his closeness and listening to him as he talked about points of interest along the way. This was clearly a part of the Highlands he knew well.

  The weather had changed, the sun barely visible through a thick shroud of leaden grey clouds. But this was what she was used to; a heavy blanket in the sky. It was unusual weather of late, the sunshine, and it was nice to have a break from the heat.

  The bridleways narrowed; occasionally they went through thick patches of forest, and twice they dismounted to allow the horses to navigate down steep slopes without their extra weight.

  Eventually they arrived at the croft. It was a small shepherd’s hut with thick stone walls and a slate roof that shone with dampness. A lone chimney stood dormant, and the thick oak door was shut tight. Two small lead-paned windows were in need of a de-cobweb and a wash.

  Reid dismounted, then reached to hold her hand as she slid from in front of Kendal to the ground. Her hips and back ached and she was looking forward to heating water for a hot drink.

  “I’ll tend the horses,” Kendal said, also landing on his feet and taking a hold of Reid’s horse. “The stables should still be made good from my last visit.”

  “Aye,” Reid said. “You do that. I’ll get a fire going.”

  “Shall I fetch water?” Moira asked, nodding at a well to the right of the croft.

  “If you can manage.” Reid let his gaze drift down her body. “I fear you may be too tired after your long day.”

  “I might be small.” She tilted her chin. “But I’m strong and I don’t tire that easily.”

  His mouth tipped into a smile. “Good to ken.” He pointed at a pail on a hook. “It’s all yours.”

  She set to work, winding down the pail then bringing it back up.

  As she did so, a thin sliver of smoke began to pour from the chimney, mingling with the clouds. In the stable the deep tones of Kendal’s voice rolled toward her as he spoke to the horses, calming them after their long day and ensuring they had everything they needed.

  Eventually, with two pails full, she headed into the croft.

  It wasn’t as unkempt as she’d expected from the outside and was certainly better than last night’s outdoor abode, which was just as well as the men had plans on them staying for quite some time.

  The floor was covered in stone tiles, the inglenook large and well equipped for cooking over a fire. A substantial bed, with covers, stood to her right, and a tin bath hung on the wall beside it. There was also a sturdy table with four chairs around it, and a shelf holding an assortment of utensils, bowls, and mugs.

  “This looks okay,” she said, setting the pails beside Reid who was prodding the fire.

  �
�It’s basic, only meant for shepherds, not for ladies such as yourself, and for that I apologize.”

  “That’s not necessary. I like the finer things, the comforts, but equally I can live without them.”

  Especially if I have you… and Kendal.

  He smiled, set the poker to one side, then stood, unfolding to his full height. “Come here.” He gathered her close. “I’ve missed you today.”

  “But we haven’t been apart.” She looped her hands behind his neck and stared up into his eyes.

  “Sure we have, you’ve been on Kendal’s horse, not mine.”

  She smiled. “Well, how about you stay close to me, all night.”

  “I intend to.” He dipped his head and kissed her.

  It was a long, deep kiss that spoke a thousand words. He adored her, he wanted her, and their future was together. She knew that with every beat of her heart. When Angus died she hadn’t been sure she’d ever find a true love, a man who understood her needs and took her in hand, but with Reid she found just that.

  “Hey, can anyone play or is this a private party?”

  Kendal’s voice filled the croft.

  She pulled back and turned to the door.

  Kendal had stripped off his tunic and by the looks of it had doused himself in water from the well. His wide chest sparkled and his hair was damp and slicked back. Droplets hung in his facial hair.

  Reid chuckled. “A private party with only one spare invitation.”

  “And that’s mine.” He stepped close. “Ain’t it, pet?” He crooked his finger beneath her chin.

  “Aye, it is.” Her heart thudded. There was as much passion in his eyes as there had been in Reid’s. These Highlanders weren’t messing about. They’d set their sights and their intentions on her. In her heart she knew she belonged to them now.

  For always.

  “Damn it, you’re beautiful.” Kendal set his mouth over hers.

  Her lips still tingled from Reid’s kiss, and having Kendal supply her with another breath-taking kiss had dampness forming between her legs and her nipples tingling.

  “We should eat,” Reid said, pulling away. “Before we all faint.”

  “Aye.” Kendal looked down at her. “You’re not one for needing the smelling salts, are you?”

  “No, I’m most definitely not. What would you like me to do?”

  “Perhaps you’d prepare a batch of dough, so we can eat bread morrow.”

  “Aye, it can proof overnight, by the fire.”

  “All that you need is on the shelf there.” Kendal nodded to his right. “As long as the mice haven’t got to it since I was last here.”

  Moira found the ingredients, mouse free, and set to the task of making dough. The men had provisions for an evening meal, dried rabbit and vegetables, and soon a broth was cooking.

  She rolled up her sleeves and kneaded, watching them move about the croft. She was weary; ideas of getting on the bed and sleeping for a very long time began to invade her thoughts.

  Eventually she had three dough balls in tins and covered in soft muslin. They’d have bread for several days once she’d cooked it, providing she could over the fire. How hard could it be? Emily had talked of doing it that way in the past, when she was a bairn, so it could be done.

  “All finished?” Reid asked.

  “Aye, though I’m bloody tired.” She yawned, realizing as she did so she’d used a word he didn’t like.

  His eyes narrowed a little and she swallowed.

  “I… here. I can set them in the nook.” Quickly she took the dough over to the fire and set the tins on the shelf set in the stonework.

  “Sit,” Kendal said. “And eat; some meat on your bones will do you good.” He held out a bowl. “Especially if you keep cursing and Reid decides to take your ass to task over it.”

  Moira took her dinner and sat, cupping it in her palms and letting the scent of rosemary and thyme infuse her nostrils.

  If Reid takes my ass?

  She couldn’t help squirming on the seat as she scooped her spoon into her broth. Her buttocks were aching from hours in the saddle, but still they tingled at the thought of Reid spanking her with his big hands.

  It would happen at some point, she was sure. Even if she managed to get her cursing under control, she would likely displease her husband some other way in the years to come. Not that she minded, it was the way of Highland men with their women and her destiny had always been to marry a man of her ancestors’ land. No one else would do.

  Reid sat and ate alongside Kendal. The conversation turned again to McTavish and his likely whereabouts. They were keen to see him, to catch up on the progress of the cause and pass on several pieces of information they were certain would be of use to him.

  When the broth was finished, the men eating twice as much as Moira, she took the bowls and washed up in yet another pail of water from the well. Night was encroaching and when she’d finished her task and used the outside lavvie, Moira cleaned up in water heated over the fire, then rested on the bed.

  Reid had cracked open a bottle of whiskey, and as her men sat and drank and continued their conversation in front of the dying embers, she allowed sleep to drift her away into a land of dreams about horses and mountains, kilts and cocks.

  * * *

  “We’re going to do a sweep of the area,” Reid said the next morning. “Check for tracks. We need to see who and what has been in the vicinity.”

  “Aye, okay.” She nodded and ran her hand down her dress, a fresh one she’d put on that morning after her wash.

  “You make the bread while we’re gone.” Kendal stepped close and placed his hand in the small of her back. “And stay here, indoors, safe.”

  “I will.”

  “Aye, you will.” He placed his mouth near her ear. “Or you’ll be tied to that there post by your wrists and I’ll take a birch to your soft, pretty ass until it’s so red we’ll be able to see it shining in the dead of the night.”

  She clenched her buttocks, her pussy spasmed, and her breath caught. Her gaze strayed to the heavy oak post, then she glanced around for a birch.

  There was none that she could see.

  “I mean it,” Kendal said. “One step out of that door before we’ve returned and you’ll ken how serious we are about keeping you out of harm’s way.”

  “I understand.” There was no way she’d step out of that door, not now.

  “Good lass.” Reid pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “We’ll look forward to the bread.” He paused. “And seeing you again.” His voice quieted. “And being with you again.”

  The lone unlit candle on the table—long, white, and tapered—fell over as the door slammed. Then the cottage was silent, the heavy walls seeming to close in as the door shut. Suddenly it felt strange and unfamiliar and a yearning for home filled her chest.

  “Buck up, Moira,” she said, setting the candle straight and then rolling up her sleeves. “There’s work to be done.”

  But instead of reaching for the bread, she went to the window. After giving it a wipe with a cloth, she stared out into the small yard.

  Reid and Kendal were mounting their horses. The animals were feisty, full of energy, as though the night’s rest and the oats had given them a new enthusiasm for work.

  For a moment there was a debate, it seemed, about which way to go, then Reid turned, dug in his heels, and galloped off.

  Kendal was hot on his tail, his kilt flapping and a steely look on his face.

  The clatter of hooves faded quickly and she turned and stared at the fire, which was going well—flames licking up the chimney and around the cast-iron pot hanging over it.

  There was nothing for it but to get on with her work, and provide bread for her men while they were out furthering the cause.

  She checked the dough then, after sprinkling flour onto the table, she knocked the dough back down. The pot was clean and she coated it in butter to stop the bread from sticking, then after it had begun to rise again set
it over the fire.

  As it cooked she added a few more logs to the flames. However within minutes a nasty burning smell emerged.

  “Damn and blast,” she muttered, upending the pot. The base of the bread was black and inedible.

  It took some time to get the burnt scrapings out of the pot. But eventually she did and tried again. This time she set the pot higher and didn’t stoke the flames.

  Twice she knocked the top of the bread as it cooked, waiting for the hollow sound she knew would tell her it was done.

  Eventually, after about an hour, she tipped it out.

  “Oh, for the love of God,” she tutted. It had happened again. The base had burned and was totally blackened. Perhaps the top half would be edible but the rest wouldn’t even tempt a starving goose.

  She strode to the window, feeling frustrated. More than anything she wanted to have nice bread for her men to eat when they came back from their ride.

  “You can do this.” She wiped her hands, then set to work on the final batch.

  With even more butter in the pot this time, she added the dough. “You can do this,” she said again as she sprinkled a few seeds on the top. “Cook properly.”

  As the fire dwindled, she kept on checking. Once she thought she smelled burning but then decided it was the scrapings from earlier.

  She ate an apple and a chunk of cheese Kendal had left out for her, then plaited her hair as she waited.

  Eventually she decided it was done. A knife had gone in and out clean.

  “Let this be it.” She tipped the pot onto the table and knocked the bottom with a wooden spoon.

  The bread plopped out.

  But her heart sank. Once again the base had gone not golden, but a dark tan. It would have a bitter crust.

  “I’m such a damn bawheeb, this is good for nothing but the bloody lavvie.” She slammed down the spoon and the pot. “Bloody hell, this is a God-awful mess.”

  “What is going on?”

  She turned, her chest squeezing at the sound of Reid’s voice. He wasn’t happy; just those few words told her that.

  “I’m sorry.” How much of her cursing had he heard? “The bread… it’s burned.”