When McKayla turned back, she froze. Hand over her mouth, she shook her head.
Trevor.
“McKayla,” he said quietly.
As handsome as ever he stood there looking at her…an old friend, lover and as it turned out, so much more. Words didn’t need to be exchanged. She understood why he’d shifted. His door to the life they’d shared was closing and with it, who he’d been.
But who he had been was not who he was supposed to be.
She knew it was time to let Trevor go.
Crossing to him she set aside the flashlight, cupped her best friend’s familiar face and whispered, “I love you.”
“And I love you, sweetheart, more than anyone, anywhere at any time,” he murmured.
“You know you’re making me find my calm center, right?”
His brow arched. “Am I?”
“Aye,” she said softly and leaned her head against his chest. “I want you back. Not the man you always pretended to be.”
His arms came around her and he kissed the top of her head. “When it came to you I never once pretended.”
But for the first time and what she knew to be the last, McKayla felt him change beneath her very fingertips. She breathed in the unmistakable and delicious scent of Colin MacLomain. This time when she pulled back, he cupped her cheeks and stared into her eyes. Unmistakable desire didn’t just flicker but consumed his concentrated gaze.
Recognizing his intent she mouthed, “Here? Now? Should we?”
He offered no response but lifted her and walked forward.
Suddenly not concerned in the least if the timing was appropriate, she wrapped her legs around him. The next thing she knew he lowered her onto a patch of grass by a small stream that stemmed from the nearby river. She gasped when he cupped a large handful of water and trickled it up her exposed leg. Each drop explored her steaming hot skin.
He moved down and slowly, thoroughly, searched out each adventurous drop. Unable to do anything else, McKayla hid beneath her lashes and buried her hands in his hair. Uninhibited, she all but steered him where she wanted him. Pushing her skirts up around her waist, he willingly complied. His tongue flicked and teased until his mouth found her pulsing center. In near agony beneath his talented appetite she arched against him, again and again as she chased the pinnacle he kept out reach.
Close, almost there, she groaned and grasped at the grass.
Determined to keep her perched at the edge of release, he nibbled, stopped, then nipped again. Bordering on the precipice of what felt like insanity she shook her head. In an instant he moved up, taking her legs with him. Pressed wide and tight, he moved into her swiftly, his wicked eyes watching her every reaction.
Body blown into a mad mixture of chaos and sharp, spearing release, she stared wide-eyed through the canopy of pines. Tears ran down her cheeks as an orgasm ripped through her with such speed that she couldn’t escape it. As she rode the waves of her pleasured prison, he found a rhythm that almost drove her mad.
He moved in and out. Faster. Harder. A mind blowing pace that she didn’t think she could take for much longer. Before she could voice her concern, bright lights shattered before her eyes. She cried out, her body vibrating and trembling uncontrollably against his.
Now he had to work against her muscles as they clenched and locked tight around him. Sweat glistened as he breathed heavily. He slowed just enough to allow her body a scant moment to untwist and float back down from wherever it’d been.
Every last nerve was mouth-wateringly heightened when he thrust then slowed. Thrust then slowed. Again and again he did this, creating an energized rhythm that didn’t for a second let her cherish any of the previous euphoric orgasms. No, he drove her toward something even higher.
Better.
Much more thorough. If that was even possible.
She never dreamed it could be like this.
Colors already swam in her vision. But now they ignited and exploded all around. Gripping the ground above her head, Colin’s jaw clenched and his eyes closed. His muscles locked up so tight that when his release came, his body jerked and thrust against hers. She twisted and drifted in such pleasure and sweetness, floating, as if she were in another world.
A world made of man and warrior, of love and flawlessness.
Pressed into the warm summer ground, she breathed in the scent of grass mixed with the blistering sensual scent of their entwined, fulfilled bodies. When his cheek came against hers, he seemed as eager to inhale her as she was him.
“I think I must’ve loved you before I was born,” he whispered against her skin.
It was hard to imagine it any other way.
When he finally pulled back, she flinched. Her body had been well used. Before she had a chance to acclimate, he lifted her, smoothed her skirts and then swung her into his arms. McKayla wrapped her arms around him, exhausted and grateful. Truth be told, she highly doubted she could stand on her own.
It was only once she was again cuddled and content high astride his horse that she said, “Wait, where’s our flashlight?”
Colin chuckled, steering his steed back through the wind-whipped, darkening forest. “No worries, lass. ‘Twill find its way home.”
She smiled. “Good, it’s a handy little thing.”
When they departed the woods and entered the field a large fire struggled, its sparks and smoke rebelling against the mist and highland winds. The ocean, with white-tipped waves, crashed against the distant shore.
“It would seem that plume of smoke is a beacon,” she mentioned.
“‘Twould, wouldn’t it?”
McKayla glanced over her shoulder at him then once more at the fire. “So I suppose that’s exactly what it is.”
Colin gave no response but eased the horse back into a trot. This time they didn’t fly across the field but enjoyed an easy pace that soothed her heated cheeks and allowed her time to regain strength in her legs.
When they made their way back to her family it was to find Seth now kilted and sparring with Bradon. McKayla burst out laughing. Leslie and Sheila stood nearby, goblets in hand, and grins on their faces.
Sheila looked up, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes as she looked from Colin to McKayla. “Did you have a nice ride?”
McKayla didn’t miss the innuendo and rolled her eyes as Colin helped her dismount. But she was feeling more alive and far more spunky than usual.
“Faster and more intense than I ever would’ve expected.”
Her cousin giggled and Leslie cast them a bemused sidelong glance.
“Wow, look at Seth,” Mckayla exclaimed. “He looks every inch the Scotsman.”
“You should see him fight. He’s got skills,” Leslie said. “And he’s almost giving Bradon a run for his money. Looks to me like he’s having one hell of a good time.”
“His magic will help him learn much faster than most,” Colin agreed, as he watched the two men fighting.
McKayla shivered when Malcolm raised a sword in Colin’s direction. Her husband nodded his agreement and caught the blade with ease when it was tossed his way. He’d not even started fighting and already McKayla swallowed hard. She wasn’t so sure sparring with Malcolm was the smartest idea. Colin tied back his hair with a swath of plaid and tested the weight of the blade as he walked forward.
Sensing a good battle, everyone stepped back.
Colin and Malcolm circled around one another. Stalking. Assessing. Staring. You could hear a pin drop. McKayla held her breath.
Suddenly, both lunged forward.
They attacked with ferocious precision. Swords crashed together. The ground shook, and what sounded like thunder vibrated loud and strong.
She could barely breathe.
Malcolm was out for blood.
Each strike bounced off Colin’s sword with vicious accuracy. Sweat dripped off their bodies, but still they battled, neither one willing to give up.
“Jesus,” Sheila whispered and took a long swig of whiskey.
No dance had ever been more mesmerizing.
Sweat glistened and sinew slid over flexible frames as each anticipated the other. All the while, their faces remained impregnable masks of concentration. Neither let emotion cloud his judgment. They used the mud to shift and slide just out of the other’s reach.
“Bloody hell, look at them go. Just like when they were bairns,” Bradon murmured.
As if their deities cheered them on, lightning flashed across the sky and an earth-shaking clap of thunder crashed. If nothing else, the very storm brewing around them seemed to feed their energy. With deadly focus, Colin drove forward, moving his blade back and forth so quickly that for the first time, Malcolm slid out of control.
The crowd gasped.
But her husband’s near victory didn’t last long.
Taking advantage of his unruly slip, Malcolm twirled down and around then sliced back fast. Colin protected himself but not nearly soon enough. The slick ground pulled him down.
“Och,” some murmured.
“He’s got him now,” others said.
As if he tasted victory, Malcolm made the mistake of thrusting when he probably should have waited. When he did, Colin dug his hand into the ground and used the wet mud to his advantage. He swiped his leg beneath his cousin and Malcolm hit the ground. In a move she knew all too well, Colin arched his back and jumped up, lodging his blade tight against Malcolm’s neck before the Scotsman had a chance to move.
They stared at one another.
McKayla bit her lip praying Colin wouldn’t do anything he’d regret. He loved his cousin, but what if Malcolm refused to lose? What if Colin didn’t have any other choice but to defend himself? Would Malcolm cross that line? Did his hatred run that deep?
Water dripped off Colin and his body shook. Oh God. Battle lust. It was apparent in his dark, pinning gaze. McKayla had done enough research to know that even civilized men did horrible things when their mind was overrun by such rage.
Malcolm and Colin breathed heavily as the tense moments stretched. Thank the heavens it wasn’t long before the crowd broke their silence and cries rose up. Warriors banged on their shields and clanged their blades. Colin held his sword against Malcolm’s neck before hanging his head and rising. He took a deep breath, and then held down his hand. “Well fought, cousin.”
A war raged in Malcolm’s eyes. Almost impossible to miss, he fingered the hilt of his sword as if he envisioned running the blade through his cousin’s gut. If any saw, none commented. But McKayla noticed.
At last, Malcolm made a show of amiable sportsmanship and took Colin’s hand.
“Good,” Bradon said under his breath and nodded with relief. “Verra good.”
Though Malcolm didn’t return Colin’s slap on the shoulder, he nodded and exclaimed, “Defeated but only until next time, my friends.”
“I believe he means that,” Sheila said, eyes locked on Malcolm as he accepted a mug. In fact, she kept on staring as he took a long, thorough swig.
McKayla waved a hand in front of her cousin’s face and shook her head. “Remember, he’s married to the devil.”
“It doesn’t matter what his wife’s like.” Leslie looked skyward. “I’d think the focus would be first and foremost on the very fact he’s married at all.”
“Och, ‘tis not always considered when dealing with us highlanders,” Bradon offered.
Having clearly forgotten he stood there, Leslie frowned. “Well, it should be.”
“Speak of the devil,” Bradon said, smirking. “Watch out.”
McKayla almost groaned when Loch Nessa sauntered their way. Stunning as ever in a dark blue, cleavage revealing dress, she stopped in front of Malcolm and Colin. Call it newly found wifely instincts or just a good old fashioned gut feeling, but when the devil talked to Malcolm she knew the words were meant for Colin. “If ever I saw a more striking sight. Never was there a more vicious warrior.”
Sheila and Leslie’s eyes were glued to Nessa, seemingly in awe.
Malcolm wrapped his arm around his wife’s back and pulled her close, his lips crashing over hers almost as intensely as his blade had met Colin’s minutes before.
Though Leslie looked away, Sheila couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. McKayla wasn’t sure. Great. It seemed her cousin had a thing for Malcolm. She’d have to do her best to dissuade her of that notion, but it would have to wait until later.
Bradon leaned in close to Leslie and pointed at Malcolm and Nessa who were still engaged in a lip lock. “See, the battle lust is running rampant. And ‘tis only bound to get worse.”
“Then why aren’t you off making the best of it,” Leslie snapped.
With a snicker and a wink he said, “Mayhap I am.”
McKayla sipped from her drink and tried to make sense of her cousins. But when Colin’s arm wrapped around her midsection and his front came against her back, Sheila and Leslie faded away. He murmured against her neck. “What think you now of highland swordplay. Is it everything you imagined when you wrote about it?”
Every time this man touched her, the muscles in her legs all but liquefied. Leaning back, utilizing his solid wall of support, she reveled in the feel of his damp skin and hard chest. “More,” she whispered hoarsely. “Everything about you is much more.”
Colin spun her and cupped her neck, lips centimeters from hers. “Even when I fight I think about being back inside you.” His lips curled a fraction. “‘Tis most distracting.”
“I would think,” Leslie muttered from their left.
“‘Tis good to know you think about it at all,” Bradon said from their right.
Set to ignore them altogether, she stood on tip toes and met her husband’s lips with her own. His arms wrapped around her and their kiss turned feverish. Even through the ever increasing gusts of wind and rain, they kissed. Only Ilisa’s words broke a small hole in their self-created conclave.
“The pipers go to the castle wall walks. Let us go where we might enjoy both what the heavens offer and a wee bit o’ protection for those soft of skin!”
McKayla pulled back, laughing as Ilisa swung onto a horse and hooted all the way back to the castle. “She really is insane, eh?”
“More than you know,” he guaranteed and took her hand.
His steed had been brought back so they trotted alongside the crowd. If she didn’t know any better she’d think the clan celebrated, not prepared for war. But even as they went she saw many horsemen pass, weapons scattered along their bodies. Even more strolled along the castle’s numerous wall walks.
By the time they reached the largest wall walk, night had fallen and more torches than usual burned. Bagpipes fired up, their trill echoing off the castle walls and catching on the wind. Like her, Sheila and Leslie were enchanted, caught in a time and place they never could have imagined.
“I love you honey but even your book didn’t bring it like this,” Sheila said, her eyes covering everything at once.
“Nothing recorded portrays it like this,” Leslie said.
“Like a fairytale but not,” McKayla said.
Leslie’s expression soured. “Right, so says that dreadful latrine in the back of the castle. I think I’d rather go behind a tree.”
“Or in the ocean,” Sheila said.
McKayla sighed but couldn’t help agree. “Way to kill the romanticism.”
“Oh, it shouldn’t,” Sheila said. “It’s clean here. Much cleaner than I would’ve thought. Even the men don’t reek of body odor.” Her gaze landed on Malcolm and Loch Nessa. “Even the ones who recently fought.” She crinkled her nose. “But maybe after days of it.”
“I assume we won’t be around long enough to experienc
e days of it,” Leslie said.
“Right.” Sheila sipped from her drink.
Seth came out of nowhere and managed to wrap his arms around all three, one around her cousins, the other around her. He was a muddy mess but happy as could be. “This place totally kicks ass. Forget all the haunted houses back home, I bet this castle is teeming with paranormal activity. Seriously, the energy around here almost pulses.” He looked at each of them, excited. “Can you feel it?”
Colin had just returned with a fresh mug of ale for her. Bradon trailed after him, carrying mugs for the girls. It seemed his brother was their newfound shadow. She suspected it had more to do with Leslie than anyone else.
“What happened to your servants?” Sheila asked, not all that pleased.
“They’re about,” Colin said. “And they’re paid so servant isnae the word you’re looking for.”
“Are they?” Leslie asked, surprised. “I didn’t think that sort of thing happened in these days.”
“Normally they dinnae,” Bradon responded. “But we MacLomains have never made slaves of men.”
Sheila grinned. “I’m impressed.”
But it wasn’t her approval he was looking for. Leslie, eyes anywhere but on Bradon, said wryly, “Who would’ve thought?” She looked at McKayla. “We’ll have to add that into your book. It’s a nugget of information readers would appreciate.”
“But might not think realistic,” she responded and smiled at Colin. “I tend to think the MacLomains are rare.”
“Oh, they’re rare all right,” Leslie muttered when a girl with big brown eyes and a come-hither smile winked at Bradon. He took her hand when she offered it, and vanished into the crowd to dance.
Colin, clearly aware of the attraction between Bradon and Leslie, said, “‘Twould have been rude had he not danced.”
Leslie’s brows shot together twice before her expression smoothed over. “What do I care who he dances with?”
“No doubt,” Sheila said, the whiskey warming her already rambunctious tongue. “There are always other men to be had, cousin.” She winked. “Men without such God awful hair.”
Mark of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation, Book 1) Page 22
