Plight of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation Book 5)

by Sky Purington

  When he finally pulled away from Torra, she was soon embraced by Sheila and Leslie, both with tears in their eyes. The men shook his hand, even her brother Bradon who he’d had little chance to get to know better. Besides their brief interaction when they had resurrected Valan, he’d last seen this MacLomain in battle on the opposite side of the war.

  Regrettably, he’d yet to speak further with Torra’s cousin, Malcolm. But he suspected that time would come soon enough. Yet where Colin doubted Malcolm would be quick to shake his hand, Bradon seemed to have no issue.

  Still, the MacLomain laird’s younger brother was not above a few select words as his eyes narrowed on Colin. “Despite your reasons ‘twill take time, mayhap even years, to truly forgive some of the harm ye did. But I see clearly the good ye did as well and the thoroughness of the love ye have for my sister. As such, I welcome ye as my new brother by marriage. Uphold the vows ye made to your clan this eve and protect Torra well. If not,” Bradon shrugged, a threat obvious in his lukewarm eyes, “Even clan ties willnae matter, aye?”

  Colin could only be impressed with the lad. Anyone who cared so much for Torra would always be his true ally. As such, he said, “Ye have my word that I will rule my clan well and cherish your sister above all else.”

  Bradon eyed him and nodded before he returned to Leslie.

  The pipes once more fired up and food was brought in. With Torra by his side, Colin spent many hours mingling with his clan. All received them well and as he knew would be the case, Abhainn eventually asked Torra to dance. While some might say it was because the elder Scotsman sought to better know she who would be mistress of the MacLeod castle, Colin knew better. If her remarkable beauty wasn’t enough, she fairly glowed this eve. And while they might be betrothed, it didn’t stop a single lad from appreciating how lovely she was.

  Meanwhile, the majority of his traveling companions danced and drank. Grant and Sheila were especially lost in one another as they cuddled in a corner, murmuring between long kisses. Even Valan and the Viking lass, Meyla danced together. Iosbail, true to form, was in the midst of all, dancing with not one but three lads, a riotous smile on her animated face.

  Adlin joined Colin, chuckling. “My sister is something.”

  Colin smiled. “Never was there a more kind-hearted lass.”

  “Aye, I’ve heard such on occasion.” Then he shrugged, clearly not wholly convinced. Yet even so, it was impossible not to see the fondness in his eyes when he gazed upon Iosbail. Soon though, his attention turned back to Colin. “I believe when last you and Torra were here at the Defiance there were naught but a few benches above stairs.”

  Colin eyed the arch wizard. “Aye, true.”

  A little twinkle lit Adlin’s eyes. “He who currently oversees this holding has a preference for sleeping in the stables. It seems he was raised a stable boy so prefers the hay to a warm bed.” The MacLomain looked up toward the chamber high above. “So I took it upon myself to do a wee bit o’ redecorating. ‘Tis now fit for the MacLeod Laird and his bride to be.”

  Colin appreciated the kind gesture and said as much.

  Adlin brushed away the sentiment and nodded toward Torra. “Ye’ve done well rallying your clan to your cause. ‘Tis clear they think highly of ye. So finish up your mingling then be with your lass. ‘Tis an eve set aside for enjoyment during all the strife, aye?”

  “Aye,” he agreed and nodded at Adlin. “Many thanks.”

  “Think nothing of it,” Adlin said before a comely lass swung him into the dancing crowd.

  So Colin did as recommended and after spending a bit more time with his clan pulled Torra into a dance. When he reeled her close, she trembled, little quivers running the length of her body. In response, his muscles tensed and his blood enflamed. Cupping her arse, he pulled her tighter against him and growled, “I dinnae think we’re long for the celebrating down here, lass.”

  A womanly smile curved her full lips. “Where else might we be celebrating, my laird?”

  “Come then.” He pulled her after him. “Let me show you.”

  Random snowflakes blew in through the never-ending arrow slit windows and sizzled off the torches as they climbed the narrow stairs. The years almost seemed to roll away as they went up and up. When they arrived on the landing above, Colin pulled her down the narrow hallway into not the chamber they’d left behind but a far more welcoming one.

  “Gods above,” Torra whispered.

  Adlin had done a fine job of readying the space. A warm fire crackled on the hearth and thick furs lined the floor. But that wasn’t what Torra referred to. Nay, she was focused on the chamber’s sole piece of furniture. A bed. And not just any bed. Four posted and overly large, with a curved headboard protected by long, white curtains of sheer fabric, it was a welcoming, sensual oasis.

  A tray rested in the corner with a few mugs, a flagon of whiskey and a variety of foods.

  Though tempted to throw her directly onto the bed, Colin knew it was best to go about this delicately if at all. There was not the freedom of the open sea here if she shifted. So he led her to the window, the original Highland Defiance, so that they might enjoy the chilled air.

  Torra rested her slender hand on the sill, eyes tender, voice murmur soft. “The last time we stood in front of this window we spoke of love for one another.”

  “Aye.” He rested his hand over hers. It had been when he found out about Valan. After that, they had not again returned to this chamber. “And though ‘twas an intense moment I would not change it.”

  Torra’s breathing switched with her intensifying emotions. “Nor would I.”

  They stayed that way for several long moments gazing into one another’s eyes and remembering. Determined to see her relaxed and well-kept, he finally pulled away, grabbed the tray and urged her to sit with him on the plush fur before the fire. “Have you eaten?”

  “Nay.” Her eyes lit up. “I’ve been far too excited.”

  “Aye, I well ken.” He brought a piece of bannock to her mouth, his eyes soon ensnared by her lips, chewing, even the way she swallowed. It all seemed immensely erotic and his groin tightened.

  Colin poured whiskey into both mugs and took a swig, determined not to take her where she might be uncomfortable going.

  “You did well with your clan.” A silly grin came to her face. “Especially outside beforehand.”

  Colin chuckled and suddenly felt a decade younger. “I couldnae do it without you, lass. You have my thanks for such.”

  “Actually, I quite enjoyed it.”

  “Did you then?”

  “Aye.” She quirked a brow. “‘Tis not every day you meet a highlander who can tame a dragon.”

  “Nor is it every day that you meet a dragon willing to be tamed.” Colin caressed her cheek. “Every time I think I couldnae be prouder of you I’m proved wrong and you make me prouder yet. ‘Twas the dragon magic you tapped and well controlled.” He ran his thumb over her cheekbone. “And ‘twas truly humbling that even the dragon within was willing to help champion me to my cause.”

  “‘Twas such an intense experience.” Her eyes were alight with excitement. “I think outside of our intimacy it was the first time I felt the dragon surface without intention. Yet this time I had no fear. We’ve come too far and you’ve sacrificed too much. I would have embraced the beast for you.”

  Gods did he adore her. He rubbed a strand of her silky hair back and forth betwixt his fingers. “Dinnae you see, lass. You’ve truly learned to control the bonnie beastie within. There was not a flicker of fear this time but only self-assurance that you were in charge.”

  “Nay,” she said. “There wasnae any fear of the beast. The only fear lay in protecting you.”

  “Och, you always want to protect those around you. ‘Twill always be such. Remember that your original fear lay in the dragon overtaking and killing those you love. Now that is not even a consideration. Nay, you but enforce what you want and the dragon listens, does it not?”

  T
orra’s eyes glistened and she nodded. “Aye, it seems you might be right.”

  “Aye, lass.” Colin pushed a berry past her lips and nearly groaned as her plush lips folded around it. Torra had no idea how sensual a creature she truly was. But as her tongue snaked out and slowly licked at a bit of juice that nearly escaped, he realized she was embracing her carnal nature as readily as the dragon within.

  While he meant to leave it unsaid and see how the eve unfolded, Colin couldn’t help but murmur, “Do you fear intimacy as much as before?”

  Torra nearly made his heart leap from his chest when she trailed a feather-light finger up his forearm and whispered, “Nay, I but fear we’ll set this place afire with all the flames that seems to come from our coupling.”

  He quirked his lips. “Do you not sense the magic in here then?”

  His lass stilled and she turned her head slightly. Then her brows arched and a crooked grin erupted. “Adlin.”

  “I can only assume as I dinnae recognize it as anything but verra powerful magic and verra much of a MacLomain’s making,” Colin said.

  Torra shook her head. “There’s something in it. Something that repels flames from burning what it touches.” Her grin widened. “Adlin doesnae want his Highland Defiance burned to the ground, aye?”

  Colin couldn’t lose his smile. “It seems not but I cannae much blame him. ‘Tis a special place.”

  This time Torra fed him a berry, her eyes lingering on his lips so long Colin knew his self-restraint was fast fading. But he had more he wished to speak about so held back. “All that happened this day did so quickly. Yet you remained strong. A true Scotswoman if ever I saw one. However, in your selfless actions you agreed to so much.”

  When she shook her head and made to speak, he put a finger to her lips. “Hear me out, lass. We always knew we would marry, that we loved one another that much. But ‘twas never discussed that you leave your kin so soon to oversee another castle. Especially now that you have finally connected with them in a way long denied you.”

  Torra gently removed his finger, eyes both sad and happy at once. “I still remember talking to Malcolm’s lass, Cadence, all those years ago as I eyed you across the room.”

  “Aye,” he said. “The Broun lasses were there those first few moments, were they not?”

  Torra nodded. “They were, having traveled through time as we did.” Her lips curled up as her eyes stared into the past. “Cadence spun a tale that she knew you already, a cousin of a cousin or some such thing. Anyways, though I saw the colors of your plaid, I had to confirm. Were you, in fact, a MacLeod? She said aye and all I could think of was the rift that had formed betwixt our clans’ years prior when my clan thought yours took Grant. The endless tension after my brother left your sister at the altar.”

  She put her hand over her heart, brogue thickening. “It hurt here so verra badly because I already knew that I loved ye. But in that moment that ye held out yer hand and asked me to dance I realized that anything that ye were part of I was part of. ‘Twas inevitable.”

  Her eyes met his, the past once more behind her. “‘Twas also in that moment that I knew that the MacLeod castle would likely one day be my new home and so long as ye were there I would love it as I did the MacLomain castle.”

  “And no clan will ever be more honored to have ye, lass,” he said, voice gruff with emotion. Truer words had never been uttered.

  When she set aside the tray and knelt in front of him, Colin nearly came undone. Just the sight of her bonnie face in the warm firelight and her clear intent infused every nerve ending.

  Nothing was said as she leaned forward and pulled the plaid from his shoulder. Clearly eager to take her time, Torra ran her hands up beneath his tunic, her less-than-tentative fingers playing over and seemingly memorizing his every muscle. He couldn’t contain a low rumble of pleasure when she licked her lips and her small, white teeth clamped down on her lower lip.

  There was something incredibly innocent yet primal in the simple action.

  As if she tasted her own desire for the first time.

  When she shifted her hips slightly, he knew she was already afire down below and eager to assuage her needs. Though every instinct urged him to slam her to the furs and thrust into her dampened need, he would not.

  This moment belonged to her.

  Colin lifted his arms when she came to her knees and pulled his tunic over his head. This put her chest in his face and he inhaled deeply. She smelled so sweet, like fresh baked bread mixed with warm summer grass. Her languid gaze fell down over his chest, arms and stomach from beneath half-mast eyelids.

  The way she watched him now was literally the most erotic thing he’d ever seen.

  And it seemed she felt the same because a very faint but wholly aroused sound came from deep down inside her as her small hands cupped first his cheeks before slowly making their way down the sides of his neck. Colin knew she could likely see the heavy thud of his heart within his chest when her hands rounded over his shoulders. He ground his teeth as she leaned over and gently kissed his upper collarbone.

  Trailing her lips, she kissed then nibbled her way over his shoulder blade, lingering over the tattoo. He closed his eyes, barely able to breathe when she pressed her cheek against it and murmured soft, incoherent words.

  Then, if she hadn’t already tortured him enough, she started to drop small kisses then flicked out her tongue and traced its contours with hot, wet trails. Colin tried to focus on the sound of the pipes echoing up from below. He tried to focus on the eerie howl of the wind cutting through far too many thin windows.

  But nay, the core of his being was thundering up from within.

  His magic, his fire, was seeking hers.

  As she no doubt sensed his tightly wound restraint, she gave the tattoo one last kiss before her lips closed over his. Colin groaned and swung his tongue into her eager, hot, receptive mouth. As their kiss intensified, fire once more started to whip around them.

  Fueled by nothing but pure, unadulterated need, he grabbed her arse and flipped her onto her back. Despite his determination to be gentle, Torra brought out something far different. Desperate, determined, he pushed up her skirts and spread her thighs in one swift, unrelenting motion.

  Before she could guess his intentions, he put a staying hand against her stomach and brought his lips to the throbbing center betwixt her legs. Even if she meant to push him away, it was too late when he flicked his tongue. Imprisoned by pure pleasure, she arched up, flung back her head and released a sharp gasp.

  Hungry, desperate, he tasted her. His body quivered as harshly as her thighs while he worked at her delicate flesh. By the time his fingers joined his mouth, she was far past stopping him and well into another reality entirely.

  But then so was he.

  When her body suddenly arched sharply, locked up and she cried out, he scooped an arm beneath her lower back and came over her. Sinfully mesmerized by the look on her face as she climaxed, he cupped the back of her neck. Nostrils flaring, lips parted, he brought his mouth within inches of hers as she struggled to breathe, as she struggled to see beyond the glaze in her eyes.

  While he meant to let her coast gently down from her pinnacled pleasure, the moment he saw fire swirl within her lost gaze, his own magic responded. Almost as if it needed her more than his physical body if such was even possible.

  Yanking off his plaid, he settled between her thighs and thrust far harder than intended. Though he by no means filled her to the hilt, she cried out as another climax tore through her. Fire ripped and thrashed around them as she bucked and flailed.

  Her body was entirely out of control and he loved it.

  Meeting her fire with his, he suffered the pure bliss of her clenching heat and waited. But he was not without purpose as he did so. Wrapping one arm beneath her knee, he used his free hand, lips and teeth to manipulate her breasts. It mattered naught that material separated them. Her heat all but singed him.

  Though it took near
ly longer than he was capable he waited for her to settle some, waited out that last grasp around his cock, before he closed his lips over hers. Fire continued to ebb and flow around them, a barely doused flame as she gave in to the avid tenderization of her lips.

  Only when she at last relaxed did he pull back, meet her dewy gaze and thrust fully. She grasped his biceps and her legs jerked up as she again inhaled sharply. Colin froze, caught betwixt letting her adjust and being blown away in the pure, unbelievable feeling of being deep within her. Snow blew in through the Highland Defiance, sizzled then melted as it met his skin.

  Her jaw quivered.

  His body quaked.

  Still he waited.

  Only when her free leg slowly inched up and her calf wrapped over his leg did he pull back slightly then push forward gently. Just enough to tempt her…just enough to reignite her already hot skin.

  “Colin,” she whimpered as she wrapped an arm around his neck.

  Pulling on everything he had, Colin didn’t take her violently as he did on the shores of the North Sea but moved slow and easy. Even so, their fire crackled and burst around them. Yet it seemed almost that the flames curled lower, patiently waiting.

  “I’m right here, lass,” he whispered close to her ear as he swiveled and thrust his hips in an even, dependable rhythm. Yet he knew it was a motion that would likely be far more effective than harsh thrusts.

  Never once did he release her leg but pulled it higher, securing it against her side as he moved. Her fingertips thrummed then twitched over his arms as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. Burying his face in her soft hair, he allowed his eyes to roll back, allowed his lips to fall open.

  Meanwhile, her leg drew up until it was nearly as high as the one he held prisoner. Wrapping his hand into her hair, his skin became incredibly hot as his need grew. Sex had never been like this before. So consuming that it was quite likely he’d be ravaged by his own fire before he could control it.

  But he didn’t care.

  Colin would die a million deaths to feel the bliss he felt within Torra but once.

  When her thrusts met his with far more intent, he grasped the fur by her head lest he not hurt her. Inhuman moans started to come from her chest. When Colin looked into her eyes, it was to see them fluctuating between sage green, deep blue and the glow of the dragons. Fire no longer sizzled but flamed high, whipping around both.