Laird of Darkness

by Nicole North

  “Aye, if you please,” he rasped.

  He might not be up to all the thrusting required for lovemaking, so she had to do something he would like, which would give him a release and relieve his frustrations.

  She grasped his granite-hard cock and stroked up and down as she had seen him do. Growling, he wrapped his hand around hers to tighten the grip.

  She stared down at his cock clasped within both their hands as they stroked it. So huge and potent, it looked delicious, like something she wanted to kiss. Removing their hands, she slid down next to him and kissed the tip.

  He groaned. “Och, lass! Don’t tease me,” he said through clenched teeth as he gave her a dark look.

  She shook her head and flicked her tongue against his firm flesh.

  He hissed, his whole body tensing. He would just have to be patient. She wished to explore him.

  The sexual, clean-soap scent of his groin put her into a trance, made her wet, and she could not resist a second kiss. She had bathed him earlier. Then, his shaft had been smaller and soft. She could not believe how fast it could grow into something this large and hard. Aching with arousal, she licked the velvety tip. ’Haps she was a shocking wanton, but she could not resist the erotic feel of him.

  “Alana. Take my cock into your mouth.” His murmur was harsh, needy. “Suck it.”

  Could she do such a thing? Carnal hunger overtook her and she slid the big head into her mouth. Oh, the taste and feel of him were irresistible. She wished to devour him, swallow him. She drew his cock deep into her mouth and held the shaft with her hand, still stroking. She ached, yearning to have it inside her quim.

  Moaning, she nibbled at the flushed crown, licked around the edges and down the shaft, determined to taste every inch of him. She then suckled on the head again.

  With a growl, he pulled her atop him and yanked her skirts up. “Ride me, you lusty wench.”

  The hard ridge of his cock slid upward along her slit. The moisture made her glide across him easily, his hardness so stimulating to her.

  “Allow me inside you,” he whispered against her lips. “Slide my cock into your wee juicy pussy.”

  “You are shocking.”

  He grinned. “I shock you?”

  She shook her head and lifted herself. Nay, his words only aroused her more. Taking his shaft, she nudged it against her crotch where she ached for him.

  “Aye,” he said between clenched teeth and thrust his hips. When the head slid in, she gasped, craving him even deeper. Instinct forced her to press down upon him. The more she had, the more she wanted.

  Again, he thrust his hips forcefully, lodging himself deeply within her. She cried out, her head thrown back in abandon. Her thoughts scattered and her whole focus was on him. He filled her so perfectly.

  “That’s it, lass, ride me.” His big hands on her hips, he lifted her, then made her sink down again. She caught on to this rhythm and did it herself. Her hands on the mattress by his shoulders, she stared into his fathomless eyes, near closed with bliss. His teeth clenched fiercely. His moans, growls and abrupt thrusts told her how much he enjoyed it. She tried to concentrate on the movements, part instinct, part what he’d taught her. She ground herself down on him, swiveling her hips around a bit while her inner muscles wanted to clench upon him. This he responded to with even louder groans. “Alana. Aye, ’tis good.”

  Her arse cupped in his hands, he drove into her vigorously for several delightful strokes. Then stopped, breathing fast as if trying to get himself under control. He licked his thumb, pushed his hand beneath her skirts and stroked that sensitive spot above where his cock was embedded to the hilt. His thumb rubbing there did unbelievable things to her.

  “Come for me, lass,” he urged. “Now. I wish to feel you squeezing my cock.”

  Alana lifted herself and sank down on him again. All her muscles clenched onto the ecstasy that possessed her. He thrust his hips and she could barely hold on in the storm of passion. He growled and jerked against her, his hot seed erupting within her.

  “Oh.” A moment later she collapsed on his chest. His hard breaths rushed in and out by her ear. She moved off him, to his side. He turned and pulled her to his chest in a tight embrace.

  “You amaze me.” Duncan clamped his teeth together before he said something daft to embarrass himself. But in truth, she was amazing. He had never experienced such elation as she gave him. No other woman had ever satisfied him so thoroughly. But it wasn’t only the carnal pleasures. Something in her soothed him like a balm to his soul. He felt more alive in her presence.

  Why do you not stay with me? The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t say them. Nay, she would choose MacClaren, the better man. Not the man who needed her and wanted her most.

  She had saved Duncan’s life. And what could he do except give her whatever she wanted most? If that was freedom, ’twas hers. If what she wanted most was his half brother, then that’s what she would have. He could no longer stand in her way. Alana was a selfless and giving person, the most generous he knew. She deserved so much. If he could give her the stars shining outside the window, he would.

  Her hands stroking over his back relaxed him while they rested in the twilight. But his thoughts of losing her tormented him. His mind searched for a solution, a way to keep her. There was none, he decided groggily, irate with himself. Simply forget about it.

  Though instinct warned him to stay alert, he drifted down into the warm darkness of sleep. Would he find monsters there? ’Haps he would, but at the moment he didn’t care.

  Duncan opened his eyes. Alana stirred beside him, stretching. Dim light shone softly through the open window. What the devil? This was not twilight. Too bright. Rain showered down, and thick gray clouds were visible outside the window. It seemed only moments ago stars had twinkled in the night sky.

  He frowned, trying to determine how so much time had passed. He had not slept, surely. At night? But there had been no nightmares. He inspected his arms, his chest. No fresh scratches or bites marred his skin.

  How was this possible?

  “What’s the matter?” Alana asked.

  Had she kept the nightmares at bay because she’d slept in his arms? Saints! If that was the case…he didn’t need the bow at all. He needed Alana with her healing powers and the light shining from her soul. She was all that was good. He needed her more than he needed sleep, or food, or air. He needed her beside him every night, every day.

  But he’d given her freedom. He couldn’t take it back.

  “I slept all night, yet the nightmares did not come. No beasts attacked me.”

  Her face brightened and her excited gaze searched him for marks. “Oh, Duncan, that is wondrous! ’Haps you are cured of that curse.”

  “What did you do? Cast a spell? Utter an incantation?”

  “Nay. I did naught.”

  He desperately hoped the nightmares were well and truly gone. But what if the fiends returned once she left? Duncan refused to consider it at the moment, preferring instead to focus on the remaining time they had together.

  Sitting up, Alana examined the wound where the arrow had pierced his chest. Only a pink scar remained within the red birthmark over his heart. In some strange way, it reminded him of her. When she left, her memory would be a pink scar upon his heart, but far more painful than the arrow that had lanced through his body.

  She kissed the scar and glanced shyly up at him. Her light blue eyes bewitched him.

  Stay with me.

  Nay, he couldn’t say it.

  She arose from the bed and hastened out of the room.

  Misery sank down on him despite the fact his body was in fine health.

  She might have left him just now. He might never see her again. And if so, why bother getting up? ’Twas raining outside and no work could be done on the tower.

  Angus and several other male clan members barged into the room, whooping and celebrating his recovery. He smiled and indulged them by displaying his s
car proudly. But he couldn’t even enjoy his journey back from the brink of death, because of Alana’s impending departure.

  Ten minutes later, she returned with a tray of food. The scents didn’t tempt him. He had no appetite.

  She scooped a bite of eggs into the wooden spoon and offered it to him.

  “Nay. I’m not hungry.”

  “Don’t be a surly toad.”

  She thought him surly when he was losing her—the most important person in his life?

  “I’m not surly!” He arose from the bed and, naked, strode across the room to find clean clothing in the trunk.

  “Very well! I’ll eat it all myself!” She crammed food into her mouth and chewed while glaring at him.

  “Enjoy,” he muttered.

  “Hmph.” Her mouth was too full to respond with anything more. And he left before she could swallow.

  Duncan lurked in the guardhouse near the gates, ignoring the odd looks his men-at-arms gave him. The drizzle continued. Surely she wouldn’t set out toward Castle Claren in such weather. But he refused to ask her. Alana was going to leave him. So be it. He washed his hands of her.

  If she wanted to marry his vile brother and would-be murderer, ’twas her choice.

  The rain diminished into a fine mist, and he noticed her men saddling horses and packing their belongings in the inner barmkin.

  Damn them all. He strode from the guardhouse and took the back stairs to the roof of the castle. He much preferred the battlements, where he could gaze out over the mountainous landscape toward the loch. And the damnable Castle Claren in the distance. That’s where she would soon be. Duncan allowed a thick stone merlon between him and Castle Claren, lest MacClaren shoot him with another arrow. Clearly the bastard’s eyesight was even better than his.

  Glancing down through the crenel, he saw that the horses were loaded and Alana’s clansmen and maids stood about, waiting.

  “Where is Duncan?” Alana’s high-pitched voice echoed upward, slicing through him.

  “Most likely on the ramparts,” Angus said.

  Much thanks for your betrayal, Angus, he wanted to yell down at him.

  Duncan cursed and pressed back against the stone wall until it bit into his back. He waited, knowing she would come. ’Twould flay him, yet he craved to see and touch her one last time.

  “Duncan?” Alana emerged onto the roof, glancing about. She again wore the brown cloak he’d found her in, but the cowl was lowered, her golden hair visible. When she turned toward him, her beauty again struck him, as it always did.

  “What are you doing sulking up here?”

  “I’m not sulking,” he grumbled.

  She lifted a shapely blond brow; so skeptical and haughty, she was. “You weren’t going to bid me farewell?”

  “Fare thee well,” he muttered, wishing she’d spare him the torment.

  “You’re angry with me?” She inched forward.

  “Nay.”

  “You took me hostage. I saved your life, and you gave me my freedom.” It all sounded so simple when she put it like that. But the storm inside him was anything but reasonable.

  “Indeed,” he said.

  “What did I do to offend you?”

  He sucked in much-needed cool, damp air. Still, he could not calm his annoyance. The misery and loneliness near consumed him.

  “Well, then. Whatever it is, I ask for your pardon,” she said. “My party awaits me. I must be going.”

  He nodded once.

  She crept forward and awkwardly slid her arms around his waist. Unable to resist her embrace, he wrapped his arms around her tightly and pressed his face against her soft hair. Ah, the smell of flowers and woman.

  “Duncan,” she breathed, then reached up to kiss his neck, as high as she could reach. “I will miss you.”

  He cursed. Miss was too mild a word for what he would feel when she walked out those gates. He was unsure if he could survive without her. How could he be so weak? Pull yourself together, man.

  “I’ll miss you too,” he forced himself to say. “Have a safe journey.”

  Now, go, before I tie you up in my bedchamber again.

  She nodded, looking sad and like she wanted to say more.

  “I will tell MacClaren if he ever shoots you again he will have me to answer to.” Her tone was fierce, but she was too feminine and charming to pull it off.

  Duncan frowned, wondering what she meant. MacClaren would surely laugh in her face if she said such a thing.

  “If he ever mistreats you, or hurts you…” Duncan would send all his men to murder the bastard. He’d do it himself if he could get near him.

  “He won’t.” Her grin seemed overconfident and foolish to him. Daft lass. She did not realize the danger she put herself in.

  “MacClaren is a soulless murderer, so have a care,” he said.

  “Don’t worry over me.”

  ’Twas useless to deny he would. “Don’t worry over me either.”

  A hint of a smile crossed her lips. Reaching up, she drew his head down so she might kiss him. Resisting her was futile. He kissed her hungrily, tasting her, relishing her. Damn, but he wanted her, needed her. In every way. He couldn’t tell her how much.

  Stay with me.

  What kind of man was he if he needed a woman for protection against monsters? ’Twas ridiculous. But it wasn’t just a shield from his nightmares he wanted.

  However, he could not make her stay if it wasn’t what she wished. He wanted her to have whatever would make her happy. She deserved that. Alana’s destiny was to help many people, not just him. He would not be greedy and selfishly keep her.

  Chapter Eight

  Alana and her party, along with their horses, boarded the large, flat ferryboat and crossed the loch. Though the rain had stopped, gray clouds hung low in the sky, obscuring the mountaintops.

  What could she expect from MacClaren? She hoped he wasn’t a callous knave.

  In less than two hours, they arrived at Castle Claren, a huge gray granite structure with three towers and a high stone curtain wall. The guards posted at the gates appeared poleaxed when she told them her name, but one hastened inside for the laird.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man returned with the guard. When he drew closer, she noted he was attractive, with tawny-blond hair and pale blue eyes. The gates opened and her party entered. Surely he could not be Duncan’s brother. Their coloring was dramatically different.

  “Welcome. I am Kinnon MacClaren.” He smiled and bowed.

  “Lady Alana Forbes.” She curtseyed.

  He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, his expression turning serious. “Thank the saints you are safe, my lady. I worried that devil’s spawn had killed you.”

  “Nay. I am well.” This man seemed civilized enough. Hopefully she had nothing to fear from him. As for his opinion of Duncan, she would have to remedy that later. “Is my maid, Sophie, here? Is she well?”

  “Aye. You may see her. How were you able to escape? Is MacDougall dead?”

  “Nay,” Alana said, rage rising within her. “Despite the fact you tried to murder your own brother.”

  “Half brother.” He frowned. “And I am no murderer! He took you hostage and I was but trying to rescue you. I was certain he had sorely mistreated you. Besides, if he had died, he would’ve deserved it.”

  “You are wrong. He does not deserve to die. He didn’t hurt me nor any of my people.”

  MacClaren lifted a brow. “’Tis a miracle.”

  “He is not as bad as you imagine.”

  “Is that so? One thing I don’t understand, my arrow pierced his heart. How did he survive?”

  “You missed by less than an inch. He is recovering now. And he gave all of us our freedom. That should tell you what kind of man he is.”

  “Well, mayhap he is changing his evil ways. Come in. You are all welcome and in time for midday meal.” He motioned toward the doorway.

  Stable lads led the horses away.

  Alana carried her
herb satchel into the great hall, her servants and clansmen following. Many candles lit the massive room. Servants were preparing the trestle tables and benches for the upcoming meal.

  “Could I speak with you in private, Laird MacClaren?” she asked.

  “Aye.”

  He led her upstairs to a small room that contained a desk cluttered with parchments. A tall window allowed in milky-gray light.

  Alana decided she was no longer able to judge a person by first appearances, given how she’d misjudged Duncan. She simply hoped MacClaren was as honorable as he appeared…since they were now alone.

  He motioned for her to take a seat in a straight chair, while he seated himself behind the desk.

  “I know I was promised to you as a bride,” she said, her stomach knotting. “But I would like to offer you something else instead.”

  “Why?” he asked in a hesitant tone. He watched her with those unnerving blue eyes, yet she was unable to gauge his true reaction. He seemed well skilled at hiding his emotions. “Pray pardon, but I must ask you this, my lady. Did MacDougall rape you?”

  “No. No, of course not.”

  He released a breath and some of the tension.

  There was no help for it. She must tell him the truth. “I have fallen in love with Duncan MacDougall.”

  “Fallen in love?” he scoffed. “So that’s the way of it. MacDougall seduced you and turned you against your own betrothed. ’Tis one of the things he’s notorious for.” His lip curled in obvious disgust. “You surprise me. I thought you a principled and moral lady.”

  Though Alana knew she should feel ashamed, she didn’t. She loved Duncan, and what they’d shared was one of the most beautiful things on earth. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint. If you will release me from my obligation to you, I will repay you in gold.”

  “Gold?” He lifted a brow.

  “Aye, the bride price and my dowry.” She opened the drawstring of her satchel and from beneath her herbal supplies, withdrew a leather pouch stuffed full of gold coins. She poured them on the desk between them.