Trapped Under his Highland Spell: A Scottish Medieval Historical Romance (Tales Of Highland Might Book 4)

by Ava McArthur

  She soon got her answer. The quaking sensation in the pit of her stomach expanded to fill up her whole body. It snapped and thundered and she squeezed her eyes shut as she braced herself against the rampaging sensations that gushed out of her. Niall was the only thing holding her trembling body steady as he continued kissing her. He groaned as the energy pulsed out and left him with glistening lips. She gasped. Her skin was flushed crimson as the pleasure threatened to recede, but then Niall continued with what he was doing. His tongue and lips worked in tandem as they brought forth the pleasure again, stoking the fire until it spewed out its fierce sparks again and again, leaving Moira delirious and dazed, wondering if this was normal, if anyone else had ever experienced this much pleasure before.

  Her hands groped at his head. One of his long arms stretched up and reached to her chest. He caressed her breast and then rested his palm against her frantically beating heart. As she looked down through her fluttering eyes, she saw him gazing up at her, and there was a wicked gleam in his. He reared up, his masculine body on full display. Moira groaned when she him, so thick and hard, so primed with lust and passion. He looked like a god. His strong arms groped her thighs, digging into her flesh. He parted them; she was so limp, she couldn’t have offered any resistance if she had wanted. She licked her lips as she watched him descend closer towards her, the wide tip of his manhood growing closer and closer until it touched…and then she was in sweet heaven again. Warmth spread through her and she welcomed him into her. He fell upon her, every sinewy muscle in his body primed to make love toher.

  She held him close. They were caught in a primal, savage dance that was beautiful in its feral nature. Their bodies melted into each other, sweat dripping and trickling down in thick streams. Their lips crashed together. Their breathing became one. Their moans were hard and sharp. With every thrust Niall brought with him a new world of delight, and Moira’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. Niall kissed all over her lips and her neck. His desire was rampant, and she loved that he felt this way about her, that she could inspire such intense feelings.

  He whispered sweet things that were meant for her and her alone to hear. These played on her heart and added a romantic undercurrent to the animalistic intensity. Niall’s hands moved down. One of his arms slid underneath her body, shifting her position slightly. It was only a minute adjustment, but it made him reach even deeper inside her. She burst with pleasure as she felt this, just as Niall’s other hand stretched out and clasped hers. Their fingers entwined and they gripped each other tightly as they shared pleasure. Moira could feel the tension growing within him and she wanted him to feel good. She so badly wanted him to feel good. She urged him on, coaxing and tempting him with soft whispers and sweet promises. Niall buried his head in her neck, breathing in all of her feminine scent. Moira gulped in his masculine musk and felt his body became a mess of hard angles and taut skin. Everything about him was hard as he thundered into her and exploded, as vibrant and vivid as a storm. He was so strong that his grip almost crushed her hand as he gave her everything he had, but she took it. She took it because she was his wife, and she loved him.

  They lay together in the afterglow of their passionate love. Niall had slipped off her, his body dripping with sweat.

  “That was…that was something,” she said.

  “Aye, that surely was,” he said, each word punctuated by a gulping breath. He gazed up at the ceiling and then turned to her, smiling widely. He was still clasping her hand, and he brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. Her heart still thrummed violently with happiness. “I love ye, Moira,” he said. “I’m sorry if I hae nae made that plain enough, and I’m sorry for not telling ye sooner.”

  “I love ye tae,” Moira said, smiling sweetly, happiness imbued in every word. “When I came here, ye charmed me, Niall. Ye charmed me all the way tae the marriage bed.”

  “Aye, and I will charm ye a wee bit further than that as well,” he said, laughing as he kissed her. Everything seemed joyous and happy. Moira nestled her head against him and enjoyed the comfort of the pillow.

  “Ye know, after we were married, I started tae think about the future we might hae taegether, but then when we argued, I thought we haed lost it. It wasn’t until then that I realized how much ye mean tae me, Niall. How much this place and this marriage means tae me. I used tae think I was happy being alone, but I realize now that that’s nae the case.”

  “We can hae this future taegether,” Niall said, and in his eyes, she saw the very future that she wanted. Suddenly all the doubts vanished from her mind, and she was confident that nothing would get in the way of her happiness.

  “Now then, I believe ye hae a story tae tell me.”

  “Ah yes,” Niall said. “It’s about a man, the finest man tae ever hae lived. His name was Jeralt…” They basked in the glory of their love as they shared stories long into the night. Neither of them knew for certain if spirits existed or not, but they decided that if the spirits wanted to be left alone, then left alone they would be. They had other things to think about, like their own happiness.

  ***

  One year later…

  Moira was staggering out of bed, hair matted to her scalp with sweat, and legs wobbling.

  “Moira, what are ye daeing? Get back intae bed!” Isobel said, rushing to Moira’s side. Moira tried to bat her away.

  “Dinnae fuss over me. I should be helping. I need tae make sure that everything is ready,” Moira said.

  “Everything is gaeing tae be fine. The healer said ye need yer rest. Ye dae want tae enjoy taenight, or dae ye want tae fall asleep while ye are eating? Trust in Niall. He’ll make sure that everything gaes according tae plan.”

  Moira relented and sank back onto the bed. She needed to trust Niall as much as he needed to trust her, and in truth, it was a little more difficult to move than she remembered. “I’m just a wee bit nervous, that’s all. It’s been a while.”

  “Aye, but they’re yer family. It’ll all be well. Jamie should be back soon with them in tow.”

  Moira smiled. “I’m just glad that we can hae them here without any feeling of animosity. And I’m glad that ye and Jamie are still with us.”

  Moira was grateful for every day that she got to spend with Isobel, and the others who had recovered from the illness. As far as their health was concerned, nobody had died, and there hadn’t been any lasting effects. Indeed, sometimes it seemed as though the whole ordeal hadn’t happened at all, but Moira would never forget because it had meant so much to her on a personal level. She doubted her marriage would have been the same without it. In a way, it was good that it happened, as it helped to dispel any lingering doubts about the marriage that might have festered otherwise.

  “Hae ye heard any more about yer wedding?” Moira asked.

  Isobel sighed. “Nae yet. Niall still thinks I’m tae young, but I keep telling him that he haes tae start making arrangements soon. I want tae live a life just like ye, Moira.”

  Moira wore a smile of genuine warmth. She had never thought of herself as a role model or someone to admire, but Isobel was always so gracious and warm with her affection. She was impressed with Moira’s life and wanted the same excitement and adventure for herself. Moira had tried to tell her that things weren’t always as easy as it seemed, but Isobel was convinced that she wanted the same kind of thing, and who was Moira to dissuade her?

  “I’ll hae a word with him for ye,” Moira said with a wink. Isobel clapped her hands together and did a little dance.

  “What are ye two talking about?” Niall asked as he walked in, holding a baby in each arm. Moira’s face lit up and her heart leaped when she saw her children. She had twins with Niall, and they had called them Ruairi and Maura. They were both the prettiest things that Moira had ever seen, and every time she saw them, she thought she was going to burst with love. Niall was the perfect picture of a father as well, and she wondered if he knew how attractive it made him. Those three were her perfect family, and sh
e was grateful to the gods and the spirits for granting her this blessing, as well as her brother. Niall walked towards Moira and bent down, kissing her gently before he gave her the babies. Moira groaned when she felt their weight in her arms.

  “They’re getting bigger all the time,” she said as she rocked them. “Hae they been good?”

  “Oh, aye, and Grizel enjoyed seeing them. She already started telling them stories and she said she’s gaeing tae bring a trinket for each of them later tae ward off the evil spirits.” Niall rolled his eyes as he said this, and his voice was strained.

  “Ah, they can use all the protection they get,” Moira said. “And it does no harm in continuing this tradition. Even if the spirits dinnae exist for real, they still exist in stories, and stories are our legacy. One day we’re just gaeing tae be a story,” Moira said, looking at Niall and Isobel. Niall smiled and placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder.

  “Aye, there is wisdom in yer words,” Niall said, nodding.

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  Tales of Highland Might

  Book #1

  Awakened by his Highland Fire

  Book #2

  Liberated by his Highland Might

  Book #3

  Provoked by the Highland Brute

  Book #4 (This book)

  Trapped Under his Highland Spell

  Prologue

  It was never meant to be this way. Ainsly McLallen looked devastated as she gazed out at the world before her. The beautiful fields of her home had been trampled. The keep that stood nestled in the comforting grip of the valley was being invaded. Her long red hair was tied back into a tight ponytail. It swung like a pendulum as she twisted her head, taking in a panoramic view of the battlefield. Her green eyes were stricken with grief and swam with tears. She had only seen twenty-four summers, and yet she had witnessed enough sorrow to last a lifetime. Her soul was old and wretched, and her heart had long been beaten into submission by the rigors of life.

  Her pale face was the shade of ice as tension knotted in her stomach. For a moment, she was paralyzed as she watched everything unfold before her. It felt as though it would happen whether she did anything or not. Scowling, her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword as she hated to feel this powerless. It was the same feeling she had had four years earlier when her father had died. Then, she had watched him wither away until there was only a shadow left, and there had been nothing she was able to do about it. Since then, she had tried to lead the clan as he would have led it: nobly and with honor. But now it was being torn apart before her eyes.

  The rogue clan had come from nowhere. She didn’t recognize any of them and had no idea why they had chosen to attack her small keep. She had always lived a humble life and never sought conflict with anyone if it wasn’t necessary. Perhaps that was why they were attacking; she had been warned that people would see her as an easy target because she was a woman. It wasn’t fair, but it was true. Well, she would show them just what a woman was capable of.

  She wore leather armor and thick boots. Her cheeks burned with the same fire that was alight in her heart. Ainsly fought for her father and her clan, for all those she had lost already, and for those she was losing now. Her heart broke, and her eyes burned with tears as she looked around and saw so many dead already—people who had served by her side, boys she had watched grow into men. She cursed and spat on the ground as she strode forward, ready to enter the chaotic fray of battle.

  The air was hot, and it seemed to simmer. Pain throbbed behind her eyes. Clashes of steel ran out in the air like the song of a maiden. Brutish men clattered together and wrestled. They were covered in mud and blood, and at a cursory glance, it was difficult to tell how many of her men had fallen, but even one was too many.

  Ainsly pressed her lips together and curled her fingers even more tightly around her sword. It gleamed as it caught the sunlight that poured down from the open sky. Her thoughts turned to her father and all the things he had told her on his death bed when she had clasped his hand and watched him leave this life to pass into the next.

  “Ye must be strong, Ainsly. I know ye hae always been strong, but ye must be stronger. Others are nae gaeing tae know what ye’re capable of. They’re gaeing tae underestimate ye, and ye must use this tae yer advantage. The world haes never been fair tae women, and they will see a clan led by a woman and think ye are weak. Ye cannae let them. Ye cannae lose all I hae built. I wish…I wish I haed given ye a brother sae that ye could hae someone standing by yer side. I wish I haed done sae many things…I’m sorry, lass. I’m sorry for failing ye.”

  Tears fell from her eyes as Ainsly tried to tell him that he hadn’t failed her at all, but it seemed as though Laird McLallen was convinced of the truth and wouldn’t accept anything else. His hand had slipped away from hers as he took his final breath. He was covered in a sea of long red hair as Ainsly collapsed over him and shuddered with deep, heart-wrenching sobs.

  Ainsly was left as the last of her family, the last of her name. It was only she who could lead the clan. And now she was seeing it fall apart before her eyes. Wooden shields splintered under the brute force of the attack. Cries of pain sharper than any she had ever known before rang out as men were slammed to the ground. This land was a land of peace, yet now it had been turned into something ugly and twisted. The way of the Highlands had found her despite her best efforts to resist. War was a brutal and ugly thing. Ainsly had tried her best to keep her clan protected from it, but it seemed as though war was inevitable. The ground was stained with blood. Guts spilled out from her brave warriors. She glanced back towards the thick walls of the keep and thought about all the people huddled together there for safety and warmth, frightened out of their minds at the thought of losing their home.

  Ainsly saw one of her men being attacked by two enemies. They were big men, huge and mean with ugly scars on their faces. Their swords slashed down, and it was all her warrior could do to deflect the blows, but they were so strong that he staggered back and lost his balance. She was ashamed to say that she didn’t know the man’s name, for his face was unrecognizable as blood poured down the side of his face. The grip on his sword faltered, his mouth opened, and his eyes were wide with shock. He shook his head as though they were going to be convinced by this plea for mercy. The two swords were lifted high above the enemies’ heads and then brought down.

  Ainsly lunged forward and crouched down, lifting the sword horizontally above her head. As the two swords came down, it sounded like a blacksmith hammering at a forge. Ainsly felt the stinging pain reverberate through her arms. She screamed as she pushed back, her appearance stunning the men.

  “What, hae ye never fought a lass before?” she spat as she flashed her sword at them. She cut one man’s neck. He dropped his sword as he clutched his throat and gurgled. Thick dark blood poured down his neck as the life drained from him. The other snarled and attacked. Ainsly twisted around and deflected the blow. She was as agile as a cat and lowered herself, slashing at the man’s leg
s. She cut gashes into both of his calf muscles, and he sank to his knees. With two hands on the sword, she drove the weapon down into the man’s back between his shoulder blades. The tip came out the other side. When she drew back the sword, a river of blood came with it as he fell face-first into the mud, but he was already dead, so he didn’t have to taste it.

  “Come on, get up! The keep is nae lost yet!” Ainsly called down to the fallen warrior. He nodded and pushed himself up, scrambling to get his sword. She twisted around and looked for the next enemy, moving like a demon. Her red ponytail swung behind her, and she moved so fast it looked like the flame of a dragon’s tail. She swiped her sword left and right where she could, trying to help her men who were being overwhelmed by these powerful and mighty warriors. They were all packed with muscle and heavyset. She assumed them to be barbarians from the way they were dressed. They certainly had black hearts to assault a keep like this.