Highland Hellcat

by Mary Wine

  He surrounded her, and her body felt as though it was made to melt against his harder one. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and she wanted to sigh with the enjoyment she gained from it. Her nipples tingled and drew into hard buttons when his lips became bolder against her own.

  His kiss lost its innocent touch, becoming harder by degrees as his hand guided her head into the position he wanted. The tip of his tongue glided across her lower lip, shocking her again, only this time she eagerly embraced that shock. She wanted to be closer to it, to him, and she tried to move her lips in unison with his. Excitement was growing inside her, and she became eager to discover what his next touch might be.

  He growled softly, but the tone was almost wicked. Her eyes sprang open as she recognized the sound in some deep part of her mind that harbored every thought that had been labeled forbidden.

  “Enough, Connor.”

  She pushed against his chest, and his hold slackened. She never would have escaped by trying to back away from him, so she ducked beneath his arm and hiked up her skirts so that she might move faster.

  “Damn it all… Brina…”

  She didn’t wait to hear what else he planned to say to soothe her. Brina made it past the rocks that had granted her privacy from his men, and stumbled down the few steps to where the horses were getting a last pat from their riders. A soft cry crossed her lips when she spied her mare. A younger lad held the reins, but she took them from him quickly and wrapped them around her fingers.

  A hard hand clamped down on top of the strips of leather. It wasn’t a hard grip, but it was firm enough to trap her.

  Connor placed his other hand on the side of the mare, pinning Brina between his arms. He wasn’t actually touching her, only caging her with his arms and body, but she quivered, too aware of him by far. Sensation was coursing through her veins like whisky. Somehow she’d failed to notice that he was so much larger than she. It was a fact that she encountered daily with Bran and her father’s retainers, but Connor was different. She noticed his strength for reasons that were dark mysteries inside her mind, and feelings arose from those shadows while she became increasingly aware of the way his body might shelter hers.

  “Easy, Brina…”

  “I am at ease,” she snapped. “I want to ride my own horse; that’s all.”

  She heard him draw in a stiff breath, the fingers wrapped around her own gently massaging.

  “Can I trust ye on yer own horse?”

  Her eyes widened. She had never told a lie. Brina stared at the velvet-covered side of her mare and debated how to answer him. “I… um…”

  “That is what I thought, lass.”

  He scooped her off her feet in the next moment and tossed her up and over his shoulder again. Her robes became a tangled mess around her legs, and her braid swung around her neck. But the thing that she found intolerable was the unmistakable sound of male amusement rising up around her. Connor’s men were enjoying the sight of their laird carrying her right well, and her temper sizzled with the knowledge.

  He tossed her over the back of his stallion this time and mounted before she could lift her head.

  “I’ve a mind to sleep in a warm bed tonight, men.”

  His men sent up a sound of approval. Brina was hanging across the horse like a bag of grain, with her face pressed against its smooth coat. Her long braid went trailing toward the ground, while she flattened her hands against the side of the animal so that she might sit up.

  Connor kneed his mount, and the animal surged forward, as eager as its master to find a warm place to spend the coming night. The motion sent her bouncing against the side of the beast, while the forward momentum made her slide back against Connor’s thighs.

  She growled, low and viciously, while she wished with all her soul that she knew how to curse. But she didn’t know a single word of profanity, because her stupid undyed wool robes had always kept the men around her from muttering anything profane in her hearing. The only insulting words she knew came from the scriptures.

  “Fiend!” She snarled the word and lamented it, because the man was worse than just a demon. He was a brute and a savage, and she wanted to call him something terrible that she would feel remorse for later, damn it all.

  But she liked his kiss… and his touch.

  Her cheeks flamed bright when she heard him chuckle. Brina felt his horse climbing up the steep trail that led toward the coast. She bounced with every step, until finally nausea became a more pressing concern than her temper. Blood had rushed to her head, threatening to send her into oblivion, and part of her was defeated enough to consider just allowing oblivion to claim her. The night of no sleep was beginning to wear on her now, but another hard bounce and her belly refused to allow her to escape the pain.

  “Connor, let me up, please.”

  She detested how pitiful she sounded, but her head was spinning, and any moment she was going to lose the meager contents of her belly.

  A hard arm hooked beneath her belly and lifted her up. Relief flowed through her even as her skirts and cloak went flying around her with the aid of the horse’s motion. The fabric blew back, exposing her legs, while she tried to shove it down enough to keep her thighs from being seen. She struggled with the cloak and her pair of gowns, while the stallion continued to move. Connor lifted her up and sat her facing forward. She would have liked to take offense, but the honest truth was that by lifting her, he made it possible for her to jerk her clothing into order. When he set her down, she was straddling the horse with his arms around either side of her to control the reins. The motion of the animal sent her back against his body.

  “Are ye going to behave?”

  He muttered his question next to her ear, sending a new jolt of sensation down her length. She instantly recalled how his lips had felt against her own.

  “Nae in the manner that ye believe I should. Ye are not my father, nor my laird.”

  He chuckled a moment, and she fought the urge to jab him with one of her elbows.

  “That was not meant to please ye.”

  He angled his head so that he might speak directly next to her ear. She was struck by how intimate their positions were. Something she had never thought to feel, much less deal with. Her sisters were more accomplished than she had given them credit for, because controlling her own responses was proving a herculean task.

  “And why no’, lass? Pleasure has its place in life. I believe ye enjoyed learning that a kiss might bring such.”

  “I didn’t…” Her words trailed off, because she had enjoyed it, and she didn’t know how to lie either.

  “It was but a small sample of the sort of true enjoyment a couple might seek in each other’s embrace.”

  Her fingers clenched into a fist, and she sent her elbow back toward his belly. He clamped his arms around her before she gained her target. Her arms were squeezed tight against her sides, and she felt his breath against the exposed skin of her neck.

  “Stop toying with me.” She sounded as grumpy as a child who had not taken its afternoon nap.

  “Now why would I do that, lass? We have a unique reaction to one another, and no mistake about it. I’m looking forward to teaching ye how to kiss me back when ye’re in my arms.”

  Brina stiffened in his trapping embrace. “Do ye enjoy humiliating me, Connor Lindsey? Is that it, then? Ye want to repay my family by shaming my father?”

  He stopped chuckling and became silent for a long moment. “It is nae a shame to enjoy a kiss, lass. ’Tis a natural thing between a man and woman.” His hands began rubbing gently along the length of her shoulders and arms, sending little ripples of pleasure through her.

  “No’ for a nun, it is nae.”

  His arms tightened, only for an instant before she heard him blow out a hard breath. She was surprised to hear that her words could draw a reaction from him. His strength was so mu
ch superior to her own that he seemed removed from her ability to affect him. Yet she had.

  “Ye are no’ going to be a bride of Christ, Brina. I’ve no intention of being cruel to ye, but I give ye my solemn word that what I say is my bond. The Lindseys need the alliance with yer father, and I cannae have any woman the gossips might claim is no’ birthing my children.”

  “But—”

  He reached up and placed his hand over her lips. Surprise widened her eyes as he pulled her head back to rest against his chest.

  “No more argument from ye now, Brina. Be very sure that I am laird where we are headed, and my word will be obeyed. If ye want to fight with me, ye can do it behind the closed door of our bedchamber, no’ in the sight of me men. My word must be respected, just as yer father’s is on Chattan land.”

  She tried to protest, but her words emerged as nothing but smothered sounds.

  “One more word, lass, and I’ll take ye off somewhere private now where ye can say what is on yer mind, and I will be happy to show ye again how much ye enjoy my kiss.”

  She drew in a harsh gasp. Heat filled her cheeks, because she had to admit that part of her liked his idea. Her lips began tingling with recollection and longing for another opportunity to have his mouth on them.

  “But if we do that, lass, I believe we shall nae make Birch Stone this day, and that would mean that I would have to keep ye warm tonight with naught but my plaid and body.”

  He placed a soft kiss against her neck, and she shuddered while she drew a rocky breath. His hand moved from her lips to slowly stroke across her chin and beneath it, before smoothing along the skin that he had just kissed.

  “But I believe I like that idea a bit too much, and I need to think of my men passing the night without their wives if we end up lingering and wasting the daylight.” He turned her head so that their eyes met, and she forgot to draw breath when she witnessed what was flickering in his eyes.

  A hard promise was there, one that hinted at a man who was being pushed to the limits of his control. She was strangely attracted to the battle in his eyes, because he was resisting the urge to have her.

  As shameful as it was, she discovered that she found it complimentary.

  “So let me ride my mare if ye truly do want to cover more ground.” Being held so close to him made her tremble. Escaping from it seemed more important than slowing their progress.

  “I’ll put ye on yer mare, lass, but with the promise that if ye make me chase ye down, we’ll be settling the matter of our future the moment that I get me hands on ye.”

  “Ye claimed that ye would nae be cruel.”

  But then most men didn’t think rape a cruelty, but more something women should bear. Some men even claimed there were women who enjoyed being forced to yield to their lust. She turned her face forward because she refused to allow him to see that she feared such a thing.

  She should have expected it the moment he arrived and took her.

  Gentle fingers cupped her chin and turned her face back toward his.

  “I will nae rape ye, Brina.”

  “Is that so? Isna that the way yer father brought ye into this world?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Nae, it isna.”

  “Then why wouldn’t yer mother wed yer father?”

  She didn’t expect him to smile. Her words were insulting, questioning his word, which would have angered most men. Connor flashed a grin at her instead.

  “Because she didna want my father to be denied her dowry, so she refused to wed, and the church went after her father because there was a babe they didna want to suffer being illegitimate. Her father relented.”

  “Well… do nae be thinking there will be the same between us. My father never changes his mind.”

  “Neither do I, Brina Chattan.”

  ***

  She pressed her lips together so tightly, they turned white.

  Connor felt his temper straining against his determination to remain on the trail home, because he wanted to take her over the ridge, where he might wipe the rejection from her eyes. She didn’t trust him. It was only fair, something he should expect, considering their situation, but it still burned into his mind until he found it hard to think of anything else. She enjoyed his touch, and part of him was very impatient to show her just how much she would like being his wife.

  “I suppose I’ll have to wait until ye have reason to trust me.”

  She blinked, uncertainty appearing in her eyes before she turned to look forward. The scent of her skin rose up to tease him with how feminine she smelled. Women were indeed amazing creatures, for they were endowed with a form that was pleasing to men from the tops of their heads down to their toes. There were plenty of men who made the mistake of only taking when it came to their female partners, but he had been lucky to live in the stables, where he’d met a man who taught him how to worship a woman.

  Connor grinned when he thought of Old Sawson. The man had served the stables since he was a lad and been ignored by the mistress of the estate when it came time for promotions among the household staff. That fact had never kept Sawson from enjoying life. The man had taught Connor by example that true happiness came from inside a man first, and if that man were wise, he learned to take the time to seduce a woman before he took her. A slow stroke of the hands and careful placement of the lips were the only keys to unlocking passion inside a lass, which was something that no man could force. He found his thoughts returning to the kiss he’d stolen from Brina. It was the truth that he’d taken it, but she had returned it sweetly when he didn’t bruise her lips in some quest to prove he was her master. He felt his cock twitch beneath his kilt but held the chuckle that wanted to escape his lips.

  There were much better ways to master his newly claimed bride. In fact, he was beginning to see the early onslaught of winter as a happy event, because it would grant them long days of being allowed to do nothing save explore the delights that they could experience together. He was going to enjoy taking a wife, even more so because of the memory of his aunt telling him that he’d never have a union blessed by the church. Never hold a woman in any embrace that wasn’t labeled sinful.

  Connor frowned as he considered his aunt Mildred. She had been a hard woman who enjoyed her greed and made no excuses for the fact that she considered herself better than any other Lindsey because her mother had been noble-blooded. She had enjoyed the years his uncle had been laird and given her freedom to do whatever she pleased. Connor had often wondered why his aunt didn’t kill him, since she had made it plain that she wanted him to lie in his grave before his uncle did.

  Vanora had taken more abuse from Mildred than he had, though. His sister had been kept carefully in the castle, where Mildred had overseen her education and behavior. The little girl had been broken and taught to obey without the slightest protest, so that Mildred might select the girl’s husband and maintain control of the Lindsey clan through her.

  But that plot had failed. Connor didn’t feel any remorse for the death his aunt had suffered. In his eyes, being run through with a sword was a kinder fate than she deserved. He smiled as he considered the fact that by sending him to the stables, Mildred had made it possible for him to escape the Douglas raiders who intended to take control of the Lindsey clan by stealing his sister and killing the last of their grandfather’s blood. The Douglas ran both Connor’s uncle and aunt through before quitting the castle and taking Vanora with them. They planned to inherit through his sister, once she was old enough to wed and breed. Her offspring would be raised to be loyal to the Douglas and their interests.

  A clever plan, but one that had been taunted by his presence. Even born a bastard, he had been acknowledged on the day of his birth by his father, and there was no way to ignore that his mother’s eventual marriage had made him the heir to the Lindsey lairdship. It had taken years in court to prove it, and Connor had other lairds to
thank for seeing the matter settled. McLeren, Cameron, and McLeod had all agreed that the Douglas would not be adding another large territory to their holding, and they had made sure that Connor inherited.

  It had certainly been an interesting twist of fate to leave the stable and lay his head in the largest chamber in Birch Stone.

  Brina shivered, and he reached down to pluck up her hood from where it was hanging between their bodies and raised it up to cover her head. His touch startled her again, but she was becoming more accustomed to it. He felt her quiver and attempt to lean forward to keep their torsos from rubbing together. The undyed wool of her skirts fluttered in the wind and covered his knees while they rode.

  Your fate is changing, little Brina… Just as drastically as mine did…

  She was not going to become a bride of Christ, in spite of the lifetime she had been preparing for it. Connor allowed his lips to rise into a smile, because he was finally looking forward to sleeping in that chamber that had once belonged to Mildred. It was a fine room, to be sure, but one he had considered useless until now.

  Now he had a bride to take to it, and that pleased him.

  Greatly.

  ***

  The sky never cleared but became darker as the clouds began to press down on them. It seemed like the horizon was falling, the space between heaven and earth decreasing because the clouds were so thick. Snow fluttered down in soft flakes for half the day, but sometime near sunset it began to pelt them unmercifully.

  Brina huddled beneath the hood of her cloak, shivering as the air became frigid. Her knee-high boots no longer kept her feet and calves warm. The speed of the stallion kept her gowns fluttering, which prevented them from holding any heat against her legs. Her single comfort was warmth coming from the man behind her.

  It was amazing how much heat radiated from his body. As the daylight bled away into darkness, she discovered herself grateful for his insistence that she ride with him. The horse never slowed its pace, and it seemed to have no difficulty with the rocky terrain they rode across. There was a sense of eagerness that increased as darkness began to wrap around them once again. Exhaustion raked its claws along her body. Each motion of the horse began to grind her joints. She moved her hips in unison with the beast and the man behind her, because to do anything else was to invite torment along the insides of her thighs and her sex.