He wanted to go slow, to savor their reunion, but the moment she stroked his lower back with her fingertips, his willpower shattered. Propping his upper body on his elbows, his mouth once more came down on hers. He invaded, pillaged, ravished her lips, and Adanel returned it all.
She couldn’t think if she wanted to. She could only feel the power of her desire pulling at her, stroking and demanding. She fisted her hands in his hair not willing to let him go for a second, terrified she was reopening herself up to him and yet exhilarated at the same time.
Dugan shuddered in response. While his lips embraced hers, his hand caressed her bosom. Kneading her breast, he brushed his thumb across her nipple and found desire had already hardened it into a taut nub. His heart pounded.
He lowered his mouth to her breast and latched on to a pink bud, sucking it deep into his mouth.
“Dugan!” Adanel gripped his biceps, but he ignored her. He was totally focused on the feast before him. His memory had failed him these past few months for he had forgotten how beautiful she was, how soft. Her body was the perfect refuge from the hardships of his life.
Adanel ran her fingers up his arms, sinking them into his hair and pulling him closer. With a pop, he released her nipple and roamed the valley between her breasts until his mouth found her other one. Her groan had him suckling even harder.
Adanel writhed with pleasure, arching her back so that he took more of her in his mouth, relishing the feel of being with him once more. There could never be another. Dugan had spoiled her for anyone else and if she could not be with him, then she would rather be alone.
Adanel could not take anymore. It wasn’t enough. She wanted more. If he did not make love to her soon, she would die. “Dugan,” she moaned. “Please.”
She reached down to touch him, but he caught her hand. “Not yet,” he said. “It’s still my turn.” Then his lips returned to her skin and began to trace a sensuous path to where he would bring her to ecstasy over and over again.
Gripping her thighs, he pushed them apart and settled between them. Her unique scent called to him as his thumbs gently parted her curls. She was plump, pink, and already glistening.
Lowering his head, he tasted her and nearly lost his mind. She was as sweet as honey and as intoxicating as fine wine. Separating her lips, he continued his exploration until he found her berry and latched on to it. Adanel tried to raise her hips, but he wouldn’t let her move and held them down as his mouth and tongue lathed the moist heat he had created in her.
“Oh, God, Dugan!” Adanel moaned, her head flipping back and forth. She shuddered again and again as he tasted the heart of her. It had been so long since she had felt like this, and he was only getting started.
One of his hands moved from her hips down to her thigh and began the slow torturous way back up, driving her to the brink of losing control. Then he slipped a finger into her. Her hips bucked, and he added another. Growling, Dugan kept his restraining arm across her hips never breaking off his attack.
Then he felt her first ripple of pleasure as white heat flooded his mouth. She clutched him, her nails digging into his scalp, and she let go a small cry. Instead of letting go, Dugan cupped her hips and lifted her tighter against his mouth, refusing to let the waves of pleasure fade despite her cries and weak struggles.
“Please . . . Dugan . . .” Adanel gasped, only to cry out again in denial when he released her to crawl back up her body.
Dugan’s hands shook. Hell, his whole body shook and he had not yet been inside her. He was not sure if he was going to survive their coming together, but he no longer cared.
Knowing his control was about to vanish, he pulled her under him and moved so that he was aligned with the core of her body. She was more than ready for him and he plunged deep inside her, finding bliss in surrounding heat. For a second, he could not move. Adanel shifted a little beneath him. The glide of her silken skin against him nearly ended the matter right then and there. He lifted her hips and thrust into her once again with another powerful surge, sinking into the snug, tight channel of her body.
She cried out in ecstasy, and Dugan pulled back and dove into her again. Adanel dug her nails into his back, and he pressed his face into the curve of her neck, moving harder and faster with each thrust. Her legs wrapped around him, spreading herself wide to bring him further. Then she locked her ankles behind his back to keep him there.
His pace was brutal, the desire unrestrained, but Adanel rode each thrust, hardly aware of the passionate moans she was making. Her own desire was just as unrestrained and wildly erotic. Her body had taken control and had joined his rhythm, making his movements more rapacious. He drove into her again and again, with a fevered urgency, which left him reeling.
Feeling her release approaching, Adanel pulled Dugan’s head up. Her tongue mated with his just as her body suddenly splintered.
Dugan held her at the peak, riding the crest until her cries and the heated velvet of her body surrounding his drove him right over the precipice. With his head thrown back, he roared his climax. His eyes tightly shut, a raw shudder tore at him and he could do nothing but pour himself into her.
When sanity returned, Dugan found himself still on top of Adanel, pressing her into the bed. Easing away, he caressed her cheek and found it wet with tears. “Aithinne, what . . .”
Her fingers on his lips silenced him. Curling into his side, she laid her head over his heart.
They lay like that, basking in each other’s arms, for a long while. Dugan knew they needed to talk about what happened and what it meant, but he was not sure the answer to that himself. Ignoring their past was not the solution for it would only return in a way and at a time that would resurrect all their doubt and pain with it. For them to truly move forward, they needed to talk, but the right words refused to come to mind.
They had made love, and it had been tumultuous and explosive. Their past had done nothing to dampen their desire for each other, but carnal need was one thing. Emotional commitment was another and he was not ready to vocally commit to the latter until after they spoke. Falling in love with Adanel had nearly destroyed him once, and he was not going to make such a leap until he was absolutely certain he could trust her with his heart.
He was wondering if Adanel’s thoughts were similar in nature when she suddenly sprang up onto one elbow and looked down at Dugan. Her eyes were sparkling. God, he missed how beautiful they were when she was happy. “I have a great idea concerning the docks.”
His brows popped up in surprise. The direction of her thoughts had definitely not been the same as his, but infinitely preferable. He swung his free arm around and crooked his elbow behind his head. “Let me guess. Your uncle Faden?”
Her forehead furrowed in disappointed confusion. “How did you know?”
“I had the same idea myself and asked him to be the dockmaster. He turned me down.”
She pulled her chin back. “Well, did you try?”
Dugan cocked his head and narrowed his gaze. “What do you mean ‘did I try’? I wasn’t going to plead with him. Faden’s a grown man. He can make up his mind.”
Adanel quirked a single brow. “Not in my experience. Most men need a nudge now and then,” she said as she gave a slight push to his thigh with her knee.
“You think you were responsible for this?” He pointed at her and then him. “I kissed you. You wanted to talk about the castle, about which I might have a great idea.”
“Tybalt?” Adanel smiled upon seeing his grimace. “I was going to ask him to be the one to help assess the rooms and prioritize what needs to be done.”
“He’d make a great steward . . . if he agrees. But he seems to like training with Loman’s men.”
“Oh, he’ll agree,” Adanel promised, then rolled onto his stomach and placed a lingering kiss on his chest. “Just like Faden will agree after you talk to him again and convince him why you really want him for the job.”
Dugan flipped her on her back. The feel of her sof
t lips against his skin was making him grow hard again. “First, I need to convince you of something.”
Adanel’s breathing quickened as she felt his length press against her upper leg. Her heart began to beat faster. “Such as?” she asked, hoping Dugan would say what she now knew was true. That he loved her still and wanted them to be together forever.
“As this,” he groaned, and surged forward, penetrating her, letting her body, still slick, wet, and hot, coil around his tightly. Once again, he found heaven in the unrestrained enthusiasm of her arms before they both collapsed into much needed sleep.
In the middle of the night, he woke and made love to her once more, this time slowly, reverently, until they found themselves completely depleted, lying side by side on the soft rug in front of her hearth.
Dugan leaned on one elbow, his free hand resting lightly on the curve of her waist. Adanel raised a finger and ran it slowly down the dark trail of hair on his taut abdomen. With a soft laugh that was a half groan, he caught her hand and caressed her fingertips with his lips.
Their eyes locked, and Adanel once again felt an overwhelming warmth in her heart. “I love you, Dugan.”
Immediately she felt him stiffen, and his expression became cold and distant. Her heart seized, and she knew she had made a mistake. Not in proclaiming her love, but for even allowing herself to feel that way about him.
She wiggled away from his side and sat up. “You don’t feel the same,” she stated without emotion.
“I don’t know what I feel,” Dugan said woodenly. For months, he had focused solely on his anger, letting it fester and grow. He had used it to protect his heart, and with it gone, he was vulnerable to her proclamation in a way he had not expected.
Adanel stared at him, her eyes large, dark, and penetrating. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means whatever you want,” Dugan said, getting to his feet.
Quickly he yanked on his léine. Grabbing his belt, plaid, and shoes, he then headed for the door, not taking the time to put anything else on.
“Wait! Dugan, we need to talk—”
He heard nothing else as the door swung shut. He closed his eyes for a second and then rushed down the stairs in case she tried to follow him. On the bottom floor, he ducked into a corner and quickly dressed. He left the tower with a brief nod at the two men guarding the entrance who had come to relieve Brùid earlier that night. “No one goes in this tower until Lady Adanel has given her permission.”
Without waiting for affirmation that he had been heard and understood, Dugan pivoted and headed to the coldest river he could find.
He had just hurt Adanel again. He had seen the anguish in her eyes and yet, the turmoil of emotions rolling through him kept him walking in the opposite direction of where she was.
He needed time to think. And to do that he needed to be alone.
Chapter Thirteen
With a steady gaze, Faden studied Dugan, who sat across from him. “I already turned you down once,” Faden said. “Unless you can get Fearan to listen to reason, there are no ships. And without ships, you have no need for a dockmaster.”
Dugan smiled but his expression held no mirth, only anticipation of a long overdue challenge. “Once you agree, then we will talk to Fearan together.”
Faden crossed his arms. “What makes you think I’m going to agree this time when I didn’t before?”
“Adanel,” Dugan replied simply, and then leaned over the table to refill Faden’s mug with more ale. Like the rest of the rooms in Lasairbhàigh, the laird’s dayroom was both spacious and opulent compared to most castles he had seen. Even Conor McTiernay’s dayroom was not as extravagant, though Dugan preferred it to what he had here. The ornate table and overly stuffed chairs with filigree on all the exposed wood spoke of wealth that small clans did not have. The hardships others had to endure so that Mackbaythe could pretend otherwise was repellant.
Faden took the refilled mug and slugged back half the contents. “Why am I not surprised,” he murmured.
“But she was right to ask me to try again.”
Faden popped a brow.
“She told me that all men needed a nudge.”
At that, Faden laughed. He could not help it. “And this is your version of a nudge?” he asked, wiping the mirth from his eyes.
“You know you should have the job. Plus, you are a MacLeod and can help me break the blockade.”
Faden rubbed his face. “That is precisely why I should not be your dockmaster. I am a MacLeod, and I should be able to help find a solution. But my father is only interested in one thing, and it is not this port or your lairdship.” He placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Like my brothers before me, I was sent here, not to guard my niece as everyone was told, but to steal back the leverage Mackbaythe had on my father. Did you know that?”
Dugan shook his head. “Nay, but I am not surprised. You obviously were not successful.”
“No.” Faden snorted. “Which is why I was never allowed to return home.”
Dugan narrowed his gaze and finally said, “But you are home.” He waved his hand around the room. “These people have been family to you for what? Nearly fourteen years?” Faden nodded. “That makes Adanel your family and these clansmen your kin.”
Faden shook his head. “Unfortunately for me, you can’t choose family.”
Dugan stood up and went to look out in the courtyard. There was a flurry of activity happening. Almost a week ago, Adanel had announced the removal of all staff working in or near the castle to the shock of every single person affected.
Adanel had gathered them all together in front of the castle. She had acknowledged their anger at being forced into becoming McTiernays, and then she had reminded them that the Mackbaythes of Gerloch had been viewed with contempt by neighboring clans for at least the past two generations and for good reason. Her grandfather had been greedy, and her father and brother had been evil men. Because of their actions, other clans believed all Mackbaythe clansmen and women were the same.
Adanel had declared she knew that was not true, but she also had made it clear that she knew her father and brother were not the only Mackbaythes who enjoyed in cruelty. Some had grown to relish such events, and those that did had no place working in what was now Lasairbhàigh Castle or even remaining on McTiernay land. However, she believed most of them to be good and hardworking people who loved their families and just wanted to provide for them and give them a good life. As McTiernays, they could have all those things. They just needed to accept recent changes and do their jobs well.
Unfortunately, it was clear to Adanel that the majority of those supporting the castle sought to resist change. And while she could wait until they grew to accept the new laird as their own, she was no longer willing to sleep in the Village Tower or eat poor food. And with the raise of her hand, McTiernay guards started ordering people away from the castle and all the surrounding buildings. All were cast out, from the baker to the blacksmith to the stable master. Even those who knew their jobs were essential to running the castle had been forced to leave. The resulting resentment and fury had been almost instant, but with Loman’s help, Adanel had already stationed McTiernay soldiers everywhere in anticipation of their resistance.
As shock turned into anger followed by understanding that their jobs and in some cases, homes, were truly gone and there was little they could do, fear invaded both expressions and voices. Shouts about needing food and shelter were sprinkled in between threats and promises of retaliation. Unfazed, Adanel told them that they were lucky it was a warm summer’s day as the outside would be their home until decisions were made about their future.
The curses thrown at her had been vicious, plentiful, and loud. Adanel must have felt Dugan’s eyes upon her and had looked up to the window where he stood only to give him a sharp shake of her head, making it clear she did not want him to intercede. She had been resolute in her decision. They had pushed her too far, and she was no longer symp
athetic to anything they had to say.
It was then Dugan began to fear that in his leaving so abruptly last night, he had done the same to Adanel. He had pushed the thought aside this morning but it kept returning. He was still not ready to talk about his feelings, but when he was, would she be willing to listen?
“You’re wrong,” Dugan said, countering Loman’s assertion, “you can choose family. I was persecuted by the one I was born into and chose to walk away rather than endure the pain they callously inflicted. I also chose to accept a new family when I agreed to become a McTiernay.”
Faden shifted in his seat and rested his right ankle on his left knee. “You weren’t always a McTiernay?”
Dugan let go a halfhearted chuckle and turned away from the window. “I’m not even a Highlander by birth.”
Surprised, Faden took in a deep breath. “And here I thought nothing was more important to you than loyalty.”
In one swift fluid movement, Dugan unsheathed the dagger at his waist and threw it at Faden’s head. Its tip dug deep into the wood as the blade rested against the man’s cheek. “Challenge my loyalty to the McTiernays again and you won’t have anything left to worry about. You’ll be dead.”
Faden slowly reached up, pulled the knife out, and handed the dirk back to Dugan. “Why?”
“Why did I not kill you just now? Or why would I kill you over something so important to me that it would cause me to walk away from the only woman I’ll ever love?” Dugan demanded, his voice ruthless and bitter.
Faden exhaled, realizing just how close to death he had actually come. “Both.”
“The reason you aren’t dead is Adanel. The reason I asked you to be dockmaster is not because of who your father is, but because of who you are to her. My trust is an extension of hers. And I never would have asked if I did not think you could do the job.”
“And the other?” Faden asked, wondering if Dugan would answer him or just leave him to wonder.
Dugan leveled his blue eyes on him, trying to see if the man was in earnest. “Without loyalty, nothing has value. Friendships become undependable, alliances are pointless . . . even a parent’s love for their child can be rendered meaningless.”
How to Marry a Highlander Page 25
