Highlander Besieged

by Vonda Sinclair

  Ignoring him, Cyrus poured two drams of whisky and offered one to his brother.

  "'Tis obvious you're tempted to extend the same proposition to her." With a devilish smile, Fraser accepted the small glass.

  Cyrus snorted. "Nay, indeed. I'll not be straying from my wife, whoever she ends up being."

  "Would a former mistress be such a terrible wife?"

  Feeling conflicted about that question, Cyrus shrugged. "Not right for me." But even as he said the words, they felt like a lie. Which made no sense at all.

  "What do you deem right for you? An untouched virgin?"

  "Of course. 'Tis the only way to ensure any bairn she delivers is mine. First and foremost, I need an heir. And she should be the daughter of an earl or marquess, for the most benefit to the clan."

  "But... there's just something about Elspeth. And she's not intimidated by you." Fraser sent a sideways glance, then turned up the whisky.

  Cyrus drew back. "Why should any woman be intimidated by me?"

  "Oh, believe me, they are. Most of them, anyway."

  Cyrus shrugged. He was glad he could inspire apprehension in a large portion of the male population, but he had never set out to frighten women.

  "Even Lady Lily is a wee bit scared of you," Fraser went on.

  "That's ridiculous," Cyrus muttered, even though he thought he'd seen fear in Lily's eyes the first time they'd met. He'd hoped it was only nervousness.

  "Is it?"

  He figured Lily was made of stronger stuff. "She's Rebbie's sister, and Rebbie is a fearsome warrior, charging into battles headlong."

  "Half-sister. And mayhap she takes after her mother."

  Cyrus shook his head. "Surely she kens I would never harm a woman."

  "Who knows how women think?"

  "She's young. Once we're married, she'll see how good-natured I am."

  Fraser snorted. "So, you're going to change for her?"

  "Nay. When I'm not on some sort of military campaign, I'm very amicable."

  Fraser laughed. "I didn't think you even knew that word. 'Haps you are simply a wee bit less confrontational when not bombarding traitors with fire and sword."

  Cyrus scowled. Damnation, he hadn't wanted Lily to fear him. He had done naught to frighten her. "I put extra effort into being friendly and agreeable while at Castle Rebbinglen. Could you not tell?"

  "I didn't notice until you started dancing with Elspeth and smiling, but by then Lily had already retired for the evening."

  Losing patience, Cyrus looked heavenward.

  "Women are not idiots," Fraser went on. "They have a sixth sense about them. You might pretend to be even-tempered on the surface, but underneath is a current of aggressive intensity they're aware of. Truthfully, I think you would be happier with a woman who's more compatible with you."

  Annoyed, Cyrus shrugged. "I'm not concerned with my own happiness." Not unless happiness equaled satisfying bedsport. Of a certainty, he'd felt intense but brief carnal attractions to females, which were easily appeased. And Elspeth... he had to force her from his thoughts. The fiercest carnal attraction he'd ever experienced was now wreaking havoc on his mind and body.

  "I suppose you're so ambitious and driven that you're willing to exchange your future contentment for financial gain." Fraser eyed him speculatively.

  "Aye. Our clan will benefit from money and land, and especially the alliance."

  "'Tis true, but after that, then what? Think of the many years you'll have to be married to Lily. What if neither of you can stand the sight of the other?"

  "I'll soon have two castles. I can have more built if necessary. Why have you suddenly turned into the authority on marriage?"

  "Ha. I'm no authority, but I think I grasp a bit more about it than I used to. I've spent plenty of time around Isobel and Dirk, as well as Shamus and Maili."

  Cyrus knew his siblings were blissfully in love with their spouses, but their goals were completely different from his own. Dirk had been so enamored with Isobel, he hadn't even cared about her dowry. Cyrus was still shaking his head over that one.

  "When are you planning to start looking for a wife yourself?" Cyrus wondered.

  "I have no need of one. But if I did, I would look for a woman I enjoy being with and talking to." He gave another devilish grin. "In addition to desiring her."

  "If I'm going to marry, then I want all my brothers to find brides, too."

  "You do?" Fraser quirked a brow.

  "Of course. Misery loves company."

  Fraser laughed. "So, even before you wed, you plan to be miserable. Does not sound promising."

  Cyrus was only halfway serious. 'Twas clear that his sister and his brother were thrilled with their respective marriages. But those two matches had also led to beneficial alliances with the MacKays and the MacDonalds. If he were to marry someone like Elspeth, there would be no alliance, for she had no attachment to a clan or powerful aristocrat. Her young son was a baron and that was the extent of it.

  Why the devil was he even thinking of Elspeth and marriage at the same time? Such an idea was ludicrous.

  "'Haps you can also marry for an alliance," Cyrus suggested. "Which will benefit our clan, as Isobel and Shamus have done."

  Fraser frowned, looking darkly unhappy for the first time.

  "Aye, I should've considered that before," Cyrus went on. "All of us should have marriages that bring wealth, power, allies and land to the MacKenzie clan. 'Tis not only my responsibility but that of all of us."

  "You have surely gone mad. Who do you expect Dermott to marry?"

  Unfazed, Cyrus almost grinned. "I have no inkling as of yet. Mayhap he will find his own bride soon, as you will."

  "Don't hold your breath, dear brother, for it will be years."

  "Have no worries. Once I'm married to Lily, I'll help you, Dermott and Liam find wives."

  "I'll find my own, as Shamus did," Fraser snapped. "But I'll need some time."

  "Make certain she's from a powerful clan."

  "She might be a milkmaid." Fraser smirked.

  "Or a Murray." Cyrus raised a brow, watching his brother closely for a reaction.

  Fraser's face colored before he turned away and poured himself another dram. "I have no interest in Lady Talia. I'm certain she is already married to one of the MacKays by now. Why would you wish to match me with her, anyway? She has no great dowry."

  "We don't ken that. Her sister's dowry came with a good bit of land. Her cousin, Malcolm Murray, might well be a generous guardian."

  Fraser's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Have you been thinking this over? Why bring it up now?"

  Cyrus shrugged, glad to see he could ruffle some feathers with his mention of the lass... give Fraser a dose of his own medicine. But 'twas true that he wanted only good things for his siblings. He supposed contentment was a part of that. But Fraser would think him barmy if he said such a thing.

  "Trying to tie me down?" A muscle jumped in Fraser's jaw. "Or rake in more land for the MacKenzie clan?"

  Cyrus suppressed a grin. "See it however you like. Anyway, remember what I said about in the morn. Take two of the guards. And all three of you be extra cautious. This Henry pup might well prove to be a fighting mastiff. Let's not underestimate him."

  AFTER THINKING ABOUT Cyrus and this entire situation for hours, Elspeth felt as if she'd only fallen asleep when an explosion of thunder startled her awake. A blaze of lightning flashed through the crack in the window draperies. More thunder.

  She sat upright.

  Had anyone closed the window in the tower after they'd been shot at? If not, rain would pour in.

  She leapt from the bed, belted her wrap into place and slid on her slippers. Peering into the corridor, she saw no one. Flashes of lightning lit the place enough for her to traverse the winding stairs to the upper tower room.

  Fierce wind blasted into the small chamber through the open double casement window. Thunder boomed even louder. She rushed forward, raindrops stinging her face. Us
ing both hands, she shoved one of the hinged windows closed against the gale's powerful force. After latching it into place, she pushed at the other one. A tremendous gust snatched the window from her hand. Emitting a small screech of alarm, she barely caught the window before it slammed against the stone wall.

  A strong hand closed over hers and the warm wall of a muscular male came up behind her. Startled, she glanced back to find Cyrus looming over her shoulder. He bolted the window shut, blocking off most of the noise and wind, though a whiff still entered through a small broken pane.

  "What the devil are you doing up here?" he demanded.

  "What does it look like? I knew the place would get flooded if these windows weren't fastened." She faced him. "How did you know I came up here?"

  Through the wavy glass, lightning illuminated his fearsomely handsome visage and dark eyes. "I heard someone running up the steps."

  'Twas true his room was next to the turnpike stairs.

  With a curse, he forcefully dragged her away from the windows. "The knaves could still be out there."

  Though 'twas doubtful in this storm, he could be right. When he didn't immediately release her, she wondered at his intentions. Spellbinding tingles coursed over her as if a wee bit of the lightning ran along her nerves.

  She didn't understand her strange reactions and emotions around him. His bossiness and bluster should repel her, but instead, she found these qualities manly and protective. He was the most confident and assertive man she had ever met. A lot of other men were mere dishcloths in comparison. In the past, she had always disliked forceful men like him. But she did not dislike Cyrus. Looking into his mysterious midnight eyes gave her a heated jolt. He intrigued her in ways she had never before considered. What in blazes was wrong with her? She wanted no man in her life, trying to take control of it.

  Rain splashed against the windowpanes, then a crack of thunder, as loud as a cannon, made her jump and gasp.

  "'Tis all right." With one arm at her waist and one around her shoulder, he drew her against his chest.

  Her heart thudded. Good heavens, what was he doing holding her like this? She was not a wee terrified lass. But she had never felt as safe and secure as she did right now. It seemed as if Cyrus could protect her from anything—man, beast, or violent weather. Inhaling his intoxicating manly scent, she found herself perilously drawn to him, wanting to press her lips against his heated skin. But she could not do this, nor allow herself to be ensnared in his seductive spell, for he was not hers. And never would be.

  "I am well," she murmured, pulling back gently.

  "I ken it. You're a strong woman." The delicious deep timbre of his voice near entranced her.

  During a flare of lightning, she witnessed the admiration in his eyes. Why on earth would he look at her in such a way? Surely, her strength was naught compared to his.

  In the darkness between flashes, he lowered his mouth to hers and claimed her lips. He cradled her cheek gently against his roughened fingers.

  Her eyes slid closed and, even though she knew she should jerk herself away from his masculine allure, his enticing mouth robbed her of all thought. As his tongue flicked against her upper lip, her mind ceased to function. What wickedness was he unleashing upon her? Was this what it was supposed to feel like to be illicit?

  She found her arms reaching up to encircle his neck and he shockingly clasped his hands around her thighs and lifted her against the wall. Her instincts ignited, she wrapped her legs around his waist. All the while, he captivated her with his relentless kisses. He tasted of divine forceful male with a hint of peaty whisky. His hands supported her derriere, drawing her tight against his prominent erection.

  Heavens! Never had an aroused male appealed at all. But now, she felt she might perish on the spot if she couldn't have him. She was shocked at her own moans of desperation. What madness was consuming her?

  He lifted her gently, then drew her down again, so that her most sensitive parts rode along his thick ridge of male arousal. She clasped her fists into his hair and locked her ankles together behind his back. She devoured every deep kiss he offered her, gasping with need.

  "Cyrus," she hissed.

  Pulling back a bit, he dragged her smock up her thighs. "Elspeth. Tell me."

  "Aye." Her heart pounded hard. "Take me." She had never before asked for a man's attention. Had never wanted to.

  He tugged at his plaid, drawing the material upward. The bare, feverish skin of his shaft burned against her. Groaning, he prodded at her, stroked her, teased at her heated moisture, driving her mad with craving him.

  "Now," she breathed against his lips between kisses.

  Moaning, he surged upward into her. She cried out at the shocking breach, arching backward. Not pain exactly, but she had not been prepared for his size. He withdrew a fraction, making her frantic for more. She dug her nails into his shoulders.

  With a guttural rasp, he buried himself inside her. Lifting her, he latched his lips onto her nipple through the fabric of her smock. He surged deeper and deeper with each thrust of his hips, setting a rhythm that was both animalistic and beyond the earthly realm. She had never felt anything so wicked and heavenly at the same time. The pleasure was near overwhelming.

  A great swirl of tingles spun inside her, round and round, growing brighter and hotter with each moment until it exploded like a bottle of whisky shattered within a bonfire. She screamed against the near painful ecstasy, then found his mouth covering hers, devouring her lips. She rode out wave after wave of the most exquisite pleasure she could've ever imagined. At the last moment, he withdrew, and she felt the hot splash of his seed against her lower belly. Nay! She wanted to shake him. Emptiness echoed through her. Though she knew he'd been right to spare her the risk.

  "Saints! I've gone mad in truth." Despite his self-deprecating words, he kissed her gently on the lips.

  "As have I." What the devil was she doing having illicit relations with him?

  "I won't apologize."

  "I don't want you to." Nay, mayhap she should kick herself, but she wouldn't. It had been a delectable new experience for her, something she'd wanted more than her next breath. She could not have denied herself that extreme pleasure. Although it made no sense.

  Still breathing hard, he carried her to the narrow bed in the corner and lay down beside her.

  "What are you doing?" she whispered.

  "Resting for a minute." He kissed her forehead.

  Aye, Cyrus but wanted to hold onto the exquisite encounter for another minute or two. He had never felt anything so stunning.

  Hell, what was he doing? He did not ken, but he could not release her as of yet. 'Twas as if a lodestone held him magnetically against her. Drawing away would be painful.

  He wrapped his arms around her, absorbing her soft curves and slight frame. She felt so right and comforting next to him.

  Sudden exhaustion dazing his mind, he listened to the low rumble of thunder as the storm moved away toward the east. The rain tapping against the glass and Elspeth's soft breaths warming his throat, he had never felt so relaxed in his life.

  Sometime later, he awoke to quiet darkness. He remembered instantly where he was and who lay next to him. Elspeth turned over, away from him, leaving a couple of inches of space between them. One arm around her, he snuggled up to her back, burying his face in her unbound curls to draw in her unique and alluring fragrance.

  He did not want to think. Logic and reasoning were repugnant to him at the moment. He merely wanted to immerse himself in Elspeth, explore her with all his senses. He drew her back tight against his torso. At her soft, warm feel and tantalizing scent, arousal surged, tingling through his shaft, making him hard as granite.

  Through his plaid and her smock, he pressed himself firmly against the enticing curves of her hips. After pulling the material out of the way in his fist, he reveled in the heated skin to skin contact.

  Her back arched and she moved sinuously against him, firing his blood even
hotter. Looping her arm around his neck, she buried her hand in his hair and tilted her head backward, wordlessly asking for more. He relished kissing the velvety skin of her shoulder and her neck, then trailed a hand up her bare thigh, over the flare of her hip, and along her trim waist. Luscious was the only word for her.

  After skimming his hand down from her flat belly, he gently brushed his fingers through her soft curls and over her most beguiling feminine place. She gave a pleasure-filled hum and wiggled against him. Seared by such sweet temptation, he ground his teeth.

  Simply remembering how he'd driven himself to her depths earlier sent a renewed ache of need through him. Her tight wetness had clasped and caressed him with such exquisite perfection he could scarce think.

  Now, she parted her thighs, inviting him, indulging him, and giving him access to anything he wanted.

  And damnation... how he wanted.

  His arousal burgeoning even more powerfully than before, he moaned his gratitude, then covered her with his hand and stroked his fingers through her petal-soft moisture.

  Turning her head, she gasped against his neck, then gave him a wee love bite. Engulfed by a mad lust, he guided himself into her. She instantly arched again, shoving her derriere backward, demanding more. He thrust upward, embedding himself halfway inside her.

  Even as she cried out, he growled into her ear. Holding her thighs spread wide, he slid forward again, with aching slowness. To give her the most intense pleasure, he forced himself to maintain a slow but persistent rhythm, gliding deeper each time. Her sweet throaty moans and gasps that spoke of her pleasure near drove him mad. Along with her drenching tightness, her obvious need for him spurred his own insane yearning. He could not get enough of her. Didn't know if he ever would.

  After hooking her leg back over his, he skimmed his fingertips across her slippery swollen flesh. Her moans growing louder and her head lying on his arm, she turned and bit gently into his biceps muscle. His arousal climbing, he surged harder within her, deeper.

  When the peak of pleasure seized Elspeth, her body clutched at his with delicate flutters of tightening muscles. Much as he yearned to let go and dive into his own release, he was not yet ready for this to end. He craved giving her even more pleasure than she could've ever imagined, so much that she couldn't even tolerate it. He wanted her brimming over with ecstasy.