Highland Spy: Highland Chronicles Series - Book 4

by Rose, Elizabeth

  She squirmed beneath him and he heard her moan of desire. He kissed her on the lips once more, then ran his hands down her chest and past her taut stomach. Then, holding on to the sides of her braies, he kissed her stomach, swirling his tongue against her navel, and pulled the braies off, throwing them to the ground.

  “Caleb,” she said, looking at him with lust in her eyes, licking her lips. Her heated gaze of desire fell below his waist. “Remove them,” she said, nodding to his braies.

  “Ye do it for me,” he challenged her, watching as her eyes lit up with mischief.

  “All right,” she said with a wry grin, sitting up. He was on his knees, straddling her. She untied his braies, pulling them down, causing his erection to spring free. “Oh!” she gasped, staring at his hardened manhood that in this position was right in front of her face.

  “Feel it,” he whispered, wanting to experience her touch.

  She reached out, but stopped and drew her hand back as if she were afraid to do it.

  “Let me help ye,” he told her, taking her hand in his and wrapping it around his form, holding it tightly in place. He moaned and felt as if he were so tempted by her beauty that it was driving him mad. “Are ye gettin’ warmer?” he asked.

  She took a deep breath and released it. “Aye, but no’ nearly as hot as ye.”

  “Then I’m no’ doin’ my job.” Focusing solely on Bridget, he kissed and hugged her, his hand slipping down to cup her womanhood, bringing her to life. Emotions surged through him and his breathing labored. And when he climbed atop her and settled himself between her open legs, he could see by the look in her eyes that she was ready. He wanted this more than anything, yet something made him hesitate. He needed to know for sure that she wanted it, too, and that he wasn’t forcing himself on her.

  “What are ye waitin’ for, Caleb?” Bridget arched her back and spread her legs wider. She invited him in, and he was not going to turn down the invitation.

  “Are ye sure, lass?” he asked, his breathing labored. “I dinna want to force myself on ye.”

  “Well, I’m goin’ to force myself on ye if ye dawdle any longer,” she said with a slight smile.

  Then ever so slowly, little by little, he entered her, feeling the heat between them that was about to make him combust.

  In and out like the waves on a beach, they did the dance of love. All his troubles disappeared, and nothing else mattered except for this magical, special moment.

  “Oh, Caleb,” she cried out as he thrust into her now with his full length. “Oh, Caleb!” She found her release easily, signaling to him that now it was time for his. Sliding his hands down her back and cradling her bottom end, he no longer held back. With Bridget’s squeals of passion and his low growl of ecstasy, he found his release as well, spilling his seed of life within her.

  “Bridget,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “That was . . . wonderful.” Laying down and wrapping his arms around her, his body vibrated against hers. Slink sat above them in the rafters scolding them both for what they’d just done.

  “Are ye warmer now, lass?” he asked, running a loving hand over the top of her head.

  “Burnin’ up. I’m so hot I need to run outside naked to cool off.”

  He chuckled, thinking she was jesting, until she slipped out from under his hold, and started to get out of bed.

  “Bridget?” He sat up, grinning. “Ye’re no’ really goin’ out there like that, are ye?”

  “Ye were the one to put the idea in my head,” she told him, playfully. “What would ye do if I told ye I was?”

  “Well, I’d go with ye, of course. We could always make love down by the water, or even in the river if you’d like.”

  “In the water?” The thought sounded absurd. He knew she feared the water, so he must just be teasing her. “Och, I can see that ye’re truly the son of a madman, Caleb MacKeefe. Now, lay back down because we are no’ goin’ anywhere. We are stayin’ right here in bed.”

  “I like the sound of that,” said Caleb, pulling her down atop him, holding her tightly, never wanting to let her go.

  Chapter 19

  “Caleb, get yer lazy arse out of bed!” The door to the hut slammed open and sunlight streamed in. Caleb woke up, blinking twice, seeing Logan standing there with his hands on his hips and Jack at his side. Slink jumped up on the table and then disappeared into the rafters trying to get away from the wolf.

  It took Caleb a moment to remember where he was. Then when Bridget screamed and yanked the covers up to her chin, he was reminded that they were in the love nest. He must have fallen asleep with Bridget in his arms after they made love several times last night.

  “Logan, turn around!” yelled Caleb. “It’s no’ proper for ye to be lookin’ at Bridget naked.”

  Logan sighed and turned around, still talking to Caleb. “I figured when no one could find either of ye this mornin’ that this is where ye’d be. The king is callin’ for ye as well as for his chronicler since the games are startin’ at any minute now.”

  “My faither!” cried Bridget, getting out of bed and dressing quickly. “I never should have left him alone. He’s probably worried about me. Plus, I dinna ken what he’ll be doin’ or sayin’ if I’m no’ there to stop him.”

  “Och, I canna believe I overslept,” Caleb grumbled, grabbing his clothes and dressing as well. “I canna miss the hammer throw. I wish I would have had time to practice.”

  “Mayhap ye would have had time if ye werena busy practicin’ somethin’ else instead,” spat Logan, still looking out the door as he spoke. Jack whined and laid down with his head between his paws.

  Moving quickly, they all managed to get back to the castle just as the hammer throw was starting.

  “I need to find my faither,” said Bridget as Caleb helped her to dismount.

  “I need to get to the competition.” Caleb kissed her on the cheek and ran toward the crowd.

  “Trea,” Bridget called out, seeing Caleb’s sister. She dodged several children playing with a ball, as she made her way over to Trea. “Have ye seen my faither?” she asked anxiously.

  “Aye,” said the girl. “He was lookin’ for ye, Bridget. We all were. Where were ye?”

  “Never mind that.” She reached into her bag and pulled out the Highland Chronicles. She’d been so preoccupied, that she hadn’t even had a chance to record yesterday’s events yet. Hopefully, the king wouldn’t want to see the book. “Where is he now?”

  “I believe he’s at the competition. The king was callin’ for him, so he went without ye.”

  “Och, this canna be guid. Thank ye, Trea,” she said, hurrying through the crowd. She made it almost all the way to the field where the hammer throw was already in progress, but since she was short, she couldn’t see over the spectators’ heads. Her father was probably near the dais with the king, she realized. So she turned abruptly, meaning to go there, but knocked right into someone, dropping the book in the process.

  “Well, well, we meet again.” Valan stared down at her, causing a shiver to run through her body.

  “Please, leave me alone, Valan,” she said, bending down to pick up her book. His hand got there first, and he snatched it up.

  “What have we got here?” He opened the book and flipped through the pages.

  “Give me that.” She reached for it, but he held the book away from her.

  “Somethin’ in here ye dinna want to me to see?”

  “Why are ye doin’ this, Valan? And why are ye even here at the competition?”

  “The competition is open for anyone to watch, or have ye forgotten that?”

  “I havena forgotten anythin’,” she told him. “Especially no’ the way ye treated me when we were married.”

  “Now, now, is that any way for a woman to talk to her ex-husband?”

  “Ye are a cur and a connivin’ bastard, and I will no’ let ye make me feel poorly about myself again.”

  Valan slowly lowered the book, leaning forward and spe
aking through gritted teeth. “Ye are naught but a barren whore.”

  “Dinna call me that!”

  “I ken ye spent the night with that MacKeefe, and ye’ve probably spent the night with many men tryin’ to be planted with their seeds. Well, it will never happen because ye canna bear children, and will never be wanted by any man except for those willin’ to pay to take ye to bed.”

  Bridget reached out and slapped him hard across his face. “Get away from me, before I call a MacKeefe over to have ye removed from the grounds.” She yanked the Highland Chronicles from his hand.

  “Ye put too much faith into the MacKeefes, wench. And soon, ye will see that they are no’ as grand as ye think them to be.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked, but he didn’t answer.

  “Bridget! Bridget, I finally found ye,” called her father, pushing his way toward her through the crowd.

  Valan glared at her and turned and disappeared into the sea of people.

  “Da!” she cried, hugging her father. “I’m sorry to leave ye alone so long.”

  “Never mind that. We need to get over to the king immediately. He has been askin’ about the Highland Chronicles and he is wonderin’ why I am no’ at his side recordin’ the events.”

  “What did ye tell him?”

  “I told him ye had the book and that I was goin’ to find ye. Now hurry.”

  They ran to the dais, but when they climbed the stairs to be at the king’s side, someone was already there recording the events of the competition.

  “Sorley?” asked Bridget as they approached them. “What are ye doin’ here?”

  “I’m recordin’ the events of the competition for the king,” he said proudly. His friend, Sim, a small man, stood behind him, smiling. A cheer went up from the crowd as Clement MacLean finished his throw and the herald announced his points.

  “Did ye see that?” asked the king. “Did ye record the result?”

  “Aye,” answered Sorley, scribbling something down on the page.

  “My faither is here now, Yer Majesty,” said Bridget, giving her father the Highland Chronicles and pushing him gently up to the rail, next to Sorley. “I’m so sorry we are late.”

  “No matter,” said the king. “Sorley has been here recordin’ everythin’. He has been doin’ a grand job at it, too.”

  “But my faither is here now,” she told him again. “With all due respect, Sire, my faither has been yer chronicler for years. Do ye really need Sorley here, too?”

  “Bridget, nay,” her father said, taking a hold of her arm and shaking his head.

  “Ye can both record the events of the Leader of the Lairds Competition,” the king told her. “And I’m goin’ to want to read what both of ye write at the end of the day.”

  “Of course. Thank ye, Yer Majesty,” said Brigham with a deep bow.

  “Who’s up next?” the king asked.

  “Caleb MacKeefe is next,” answered Sorley.

  “Ah, guid.” The king chuckled. “After what I read about him in Brigham’s book, I am sure he will do well in the hammer throw.”

  Bridget winced when she heard him say this, still regretting she had made Caleb sound so heroic in the book.

  “He’s no’ the favored one in this event,” Sorley pointed out. “Angus MacKenzie is, and he’s always won this round of the competition in the past.”

  “Well, I favor Caleb MacKeefe,” the king told him. “I’m sure he’ll do well in the hammer throw. And if no’, I’ll be highly disappointed.”

  “Please, Caleb,” Bridget whispered, taking her place next to her father. She now wished Caleb had taken the time to practice for the event instead of spending the night with her. If he failed now, she would feel as if it were her fault.

  * * *

  Logan handed Caleb the hammer as he prepared to take his turn next. The hammer consisted of a heavy iron ball, fastened to the end of a long, wooden pole. The object of the game was to swing the hammer in a circle around the contestant’s head, and then from a standing position, release it, to see how far it flies.

  Caleb picked up Slink and handed him to Logan. “Watch Slink for me and keep him away from Jack.”

  “Jack is out huntin’ in the woods today, so I dinna expect to see him until tonight,” Logan explained.

  Good, thought Caleb. One less thing to worry about. “Och, I’m no’ lookin’ forward to this,” complained Caleb, dusting his hands with powdered chalk.

  “Caleb,” called out Storm, limping up to him, using a staff to walk. His foot was still wrapped up.

  “Guid mornin’, Storm,” said Caleb with a nod of his head.

  Storm came forward and talked in a hushed voice to Caleb and Logan. “Did ye find out yet who the saboteur might be? The king is curious as to what ye’ve discovered.”

  “I have some suspicions, but need more evidence,” said Caleb. “I havena had time to investigate further.”

  “Why no’?” asked Storm. “The competition was extended and ye had all night to find out more.”

  “He was a little busy investigatin’ someone else,” said Logan with a grin.

  “Really? Who?”

  “I’ll spy some more today, I promise,” Caleb told Storm, not wanting to bring Bridget into this conversation. “I need to concentrate on throwin’ the hammer now.”

  “Aye,” agreed Storm. “And I dinna need to remind ye how important it is for the MacKeefes to win this competition since we are hostin’ the event and the king is our guest.”

  “I’m doin’ my best,” said Caleb, feeling the pressure even more now.

  “Well, do even better,” Storm demanded. “I have to win, and I willna accept second place. I dinna want to lose the title and crown.”

  “I understand,” said Caleb. Storm’s competitive nature made it sound as if he believed he was the one actually competing even though it was the furthest thing from the truth.

  Caleb walked by Angus who was preparing for his throw since he’d go last. The man looked overconfident which only added to Caleb’s nervousness.

  “MacKeefe, ye ken I’m the champ in the hammer throw,” Angus reminded him. “So dinna get yer hopes up. After all, ye are so small, I doubt if ye can even lift it.” He and his friends laughed at Caleb, making him angry and giving him the extra burst of energy he needed to show them all how wrong they were. Caleb wanted to look good in the king’s eyes and for Bridget, too. Plus, Storm and the entire MacKeefe Clan were counting on him. He was their only chance to keep the title. The last thing he wanted to do was let anyone down.

  “Just worry about yerself, Angus,” said Caleb, stepping out onto the field to take his turn. The announcer called out his name and Caleb let out a deep breath. He’d only tried this once or twice and didn’t feel as if he were very good at it. Now, he wished he would have gotten more involved when his friends often bet against each other in competitions such as this.

  With both hands gripped tightly to the handle, Caleb started to swing it around his head. The heavy hammer whizzed through the air around him, and over his head several times before he let it go. Standing with his back to the direction he’d thrown the hammer, he hoped it would go far.

  The crowd echoed Caleb’s disappointment when it didn’t even go as far as his competitors before him.

  “Bid the devil,” he griped as Angus walked by chuckling.

  “Let me show ye how it’s done,” said Angus, holding his hammer in one hand as he strutted to the starting line.

  Caleb ignored the pompous man, glancing up to the dais where the king sat watching. Standing at the rail in front of him but to the side were Bridget and her father. That pesky new chronicler, Sorley, and his counterpart, Sim, stood on the opposite side of the king. Sorley busily wrote in his book. Caleb saw Bridget nudge her father with her elbow, and he pretended to write as well.

  “Tough luck,” said Logan, coming to join him.

  “Storm isna goin’ to be happy with me,” remarked Caleb.

 
“It wasna that bad of a throw,” Logan tried to console him, but Caleb was no fool. His bad throw could have just cost him the game.

  “Ye’re still ahead with the most wins,” said Logan, handing Slink over to Caleb.

  “Aye, but we dinna ken how long that will last.”

  Caleb’s back was to Angus, and he didn’t even want to see his throw. Logan, on the other hand, watched intently. Suddenly, his eyes opened wide and people screamed. Logan leaped at Caleb, pushing him and Slink to the ground.

  “What the hell?” Caleb landed on his back with Slink atop him. Logan landed next to him on the ground. An iron ball flew through the air right above Caleb’s head and landed next to him, rolling away, disappearing in the crowd.

  The spectators had parted and were pushing each other so as not to get hit. Screams went up from the sidelines since Angus’ hammer had come loose. It was supposed to fly in the opposite direction.

  “Thanks,” Caleb told Logan, getting to his feet. “This is gettin’ out of hand. Someone could have really gotten hurt.”

  “Angus MacKenzie will receive no points for that throw,” the herald called out. Angus was furious and threw the handle from the hammer to the ground. “That means that Clement MacLean wins this event. Now we will move on to the rowin’ competition.”

  “God’s eyes, I canna even have a moment to figure things out since these events are happenin’ so fast,” griped Caleb.

  “Well, ye’d better do somethin’ soon before someone gets killed!” Logan reached out and took Slink from Caleb. “Go row,” he told him. “And be careful no’ to drown.”

  Chapter 20

  “Yer Majesty, would ye like us to read to ye what we’ve recorded concernin’ the events of this mornin’?” asked Sorley, looking from the sides of his eyes toward Bridget and her father.

  “Aye, I’d like that very much,” said the king with a nod. “I want to hear how creatively ye’ve both told the story of what just happened.”