by Sabrina York
Susana shook her head. At what cost to Hannah’s husband? To Hannah herself?
“Do you no’ see? Dunnet hopes to discredit the duke. If Caithness is removed or replaced, Stafford is the obvious choice. There are already rumors that the prince is inclined to hand all the lands in the county over to him.”
Susana shook her head. It all seemed so Machiavellian.
Keir sighed. “Dunnet is in league with him. With Stafford. The man who burned out our crofts and has tried on numerous occasions to claim your land. He couldn’t claim Reay through Hannah … and now that she’s married to Dunnet, the only way Stafford can gain the lands he so desires is by working with Dunnet.” His gaze intensified. “I warn you, my lady. Watch Andrew Lochlannach. Watch him like a hawk. I’m convinced he’s working for our enemy. He and Dunnet are determined to bring us down.”
Susana swallowed heavily. This was, indeed, an appalling prospect.
And also odd.
Though Keir was adamant and spoke with conviction, the facts didn’t add up.
Something beyond her innate sense that Andrew, while cocky and arrogant and handsome beyond what was good for him, was not an evil man. Or manipulative. Or sly.
She hadn’t gotten that sense from him, or Hamish, in any interaction they’d had—even when she’d been convinced Andrew had come to her from the very bowels of hell itself.
Keir, on the other hand, had good reason to lie to her. Good reason to foment her fear. Especially if he was worried he might lose his position as the captain of the guard. Indeed, his focus on her face was far too intent.
She forced a smile, though it wobbled. “I will think about this, Keir.”
“Do.” His response was nearly a snarl, so ferocious, it startled her. “And my lady?”
“Aye?”
“Keep away from Andrew Lochlannach.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
So had she. She rather liked it.
“The man has designs on you.”
Hopefully.
“He cannot be trusted.”
“Keir—”
“I know I’ve never said anything, but…”
Oh, dear. He stepped close, far too close. His gaze locked on her mouth.
She placed a hand on his chest, to halt his advance. It did not. He pressed her against the door, pinioning her there with his muscled body. “Keir?”
“I’ve always wanted you, Susana,” he murmured, just before his lips covered hers.
It was a harsh, desperate kiss and there was little passion in it, which was fine. She hardly wanted passion from Keir. It complicated her life immeasurably. Her captain of the guard was jealous of her and resentful of Andrew and willing to spin a web of lies and fears to maintain his control of her.
She liked this man, and respected him. She didn’t want to reject him outright, but she couldn’t tolerate this kind of liberty.
“Now, Keir,” she said, pushing him away. He allowed this, but begrudged every step. Forcing a lighthearted smile, she said, “You know how I deal with suitors.” It was a blatant reminder that she had a tendency to shoot them in the arse.
He studied her for a moment. His eyes narrowed, as though he was searching for something—her conviction, perhaps—and then he nodded.
“Aye, my lady.” He tugged down his jerkin and affected a bow. “I’m sorry, my lady. But … I just couldn’t let it go unsaid. I have…” His throat worked. “Loved you for a long time.”
Susana blinked. Well, this was a surprise. He’d been protective and attentive, but never loverly in the slightest. She didn’t know what to say. She had no interest in him. No interest whatsoever, especially since the advent of a tall, muscled man with white-blond hair and the devil’s dimples. “I so appreciate that, Keir. I do. And I appreciate your service. Your willingness to share the information you hear with me.”
“You will be wary of him?”
“Him?”
“Lochlannach. Mark my words, he means trouble for us all. We must watch his every move with a vigilant eye.”
“Of course I shall be vigilant,” she said, and then she turned and left the room, left Keir standing there with a brooding frown on his face.
Oh, she would watch Andrew’s every move with a very vigilant eye.
Starting tonight.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Why Andrew felt like a criminal as he slunk through the drafty castle halls, he didn’t know. Probably because he was slinking. Probably because he had mischief on his mind. Probably because he really didn’t want to be caught before he reached his destination. Whatever the reason, Andrew’s heart thudded with exhilaration and anticipation and perhaps a touch of trepidation as he neared Susana’s chambers and tapped on her door.
She could very well kick him out.
Hell, she could very well toss him in the dungeon—this was Susana—but he didn’t think she would. She had, after all, whispered directions to her rooms as the dinner party had broken up.
She didn’t greet him as he’d expected, imagined—with a scalding kiss. As he entered her room, she crossed her arms. “Did you get settled in your new accommodations?”
“Aye.” He stepped toward her; she retreated. His unease rose.
“Are they satisfactory?”
“Aye.” He advanced on her again. Again, she retreated. Concern rippled through him. He didn’t like the way she eyed him. So he stopped in the middle of the room. Though he wanted nothing more than to leap on her and kiss her … and more, he restrained himself. Something was bothering her, and he intended to soothe her mind before he began his seduction.
“Where did you go after dinner?”
“Keir wanted to talk to me.”
“I can imagine he did.”
“He doesna like relinquishing control.”
He quirked a brow. “Sound like anyone you know?”
She smiled, though it was clear she hadn’t intended to, as she nibbled it away. She turned to the window and threaded her fingers together. He studied her reflection. Concern riffled her brow. Obviously there was more to it than Keir’s obstinacy.
“What else did he say?”
She blew out a breath and spun to face him. “He did share some concerning thoughts.” Her lashes flickered. “May I ask you a question?”
He spread his hands. “Anything.”
“Your brother…”
Andrew blinked. Why would she want to talk about Alexander?
“Is he … a loyal man?”
“Aye.” The most loyal man Andrew knew.
“Would he ever … consider … treason?”
“Treason?” Andrew’s pulse lurched. “Is that what Keir said?” He would pound him to a bloody pulp for maligning his family name.
“Would he?”
“Nae. Never.” He could no longer stay still. He stalked across the room and folded her into his arms. “What did Keir imply?”
“That Alexander was plotting against the Duke of Caithness.”
Andrew blew out a breath on a laugh. “Oh. That.”
Her head jerked up. She gaped at him. He couldn’t help kissing her brow. It was wonderful having her in his arms again.
“He is resisting an order Caithness gave him.”
She backed away, her eyes wide and filled with suspicion.
Andrew sighed. “It was the order to clear the land, Susana. Caithness ordered Alexander to clear Dunnet and he refused.” Of course he refused. It was a heinous order, exiling the crofters to import sheep.
Susana’s nose wrinkled. “Those Clearances are a nuisance.”
“Aye. That’s how Alexander feels about it. And, aye, he’s willing to defy even the Duke of Caithness on this point.”
“And Keir’s supposition that your brother is in league with Stafford?”
Andrew gaped at her. Then he barked a laugh. Keir must truly be desperate to create such a fiction. “Stafford? The man who wanted Hannah to wed his so
n?”
Susana tapped her lip. “Aye. It didn’t make any sense to me, either. But it did make me worry for Hannah.”
“Hannah is fine.” He stepped toward her again, and this time she nestled into his arms. Where she belonged.
“Are she and Dunnet happy together?”
“I believe they are.” He tucked his chin and gazed down at her. “They seem to be quite besotted with each other.”
“Do they?” Did she sound cynical, or hopeful? “I do worry about her.”
“Know this, Susana. He will protect Hannah with every ounce of his energy. With his every breath. It’s the kind of man he is.”
“It eases my heart to know that. She is so verra dear.”
“She is a wonderful woman.” When Susana’s brow rippled, he hurried to add, “Perfect for Alexander.”
“Perfect?”
“She’s just what he needed. She’s … verra good for him.”
“Good for him?”
“He’s had a difficult life. Challenges. She accepts him for the man that he is. She strengthens him.” He stroked her arm and let his fingers trail down to her waist. “It is how it should be between a man and a woman. Each gives the other something of themselves. Each bolsters the other.” She seemed to realize he was no longer talking about Hannah. Her hands began to wander as well.
It was a tentative time between them, a fragile time, as they explored each other—really explored each other. The tryst in the armory hardly counted. It had been a mad frenzy of lust, not this gentle examination. Though it wasn’t her body he studied, nor she his. It was something deeper. Something more. Their gazes tangled; it felt as though their souls tangled, too.
“I enjoyed dinner,” she murmured.
“As did I.”
She lifted her foot and stroked his.
“You are a naughty girl,” he said.
“You are a naughty boy.”
He couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “I thought your father was going to come out of his skin when I accidentally found his foot instead of yours.”
Her eyes widened. Her body shook with laughter. “You dinna!”
“Aye. I did. He nearly yelped.”
“Puir man.”
“He likely willna sit between us again.”
“That would be wise.”
They shared a smile, which made his attention drift to her mouth, her lips. Her tongue as it peeped out in an undeniable invitation.
“Ach, Susana,” he muttered. “It’s been far too long.”
“Mmm.” She tangled her fingers in his hair, scraped his scalp with her nails, and drew his head down. “Far too long.”
And then, she kissed him.
* * *
Ah, how wonderful it was to taste him again. All through dinner, his touch, his glances had enflamed her. His scent had tormented her.
It had been difficult to concentrate on their discussion, though it had been an important one. He’d eased her mind, answered her concerns. Convinced her that Keir’s accusations were the nonsense she’d thought them to be.
The poor man was clutching at straws and worried he was losing his place at her side. She would need to reassure him tomorrow. But tonight?
Tonight was for Andrew.
And her.
She pulled him closer and brushed against him. It thrilled her to feel the thrum of his body, especially where it thrummed against her belly. He was hard, insistent, ready. But then, so was she.
Their impassioned tryst in the armory had been rapturous, but only a sampling, a brief tangle compared with what she had in mind.
Taking the lead, she walked him backward, toward the bed. He allowed this, though his hands roved, and he did chuckle. But then when his legs hit the mattress, his grip on her waist firmed and he spun her around, tossing her onto the feather tick.
She squealed as she landed; her skirts whipped up, revealing her legs. His eyes flared as he stared at her exposed skin.
“Ach, Susana.” To her surprise, he knelt beside the bed and took her foot in his hand, easing her slipper off. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve been anticipating this moment?”
She wiggled her toes and grinned at him. “This moment?”
“Aye.” He took her ankle in his firm hold and then drew his finger up her arch. A sizzle of sensation burned through her, and she lurched away. He didn’t allow it. “You were verra naughty at dinner, my lady. Teasing me the way you did.” He dipped his head. Oh, dear. Was that his tongue? On her toes? She very nearly squealed again. “I think I need to return the favor.”
She wriggled to escape the torment, but it was a wasted effort. Aside from which, though it tickled, she really did enjoy the torment. “Re-Return the favor?”
He caught her gaze. His burned. “Punish you.”
Oh, Mother Mary. “P-Punish me?”
“Aye.” He yanked her nearer and held her foot with both hands, tracing the curves with his fingers and his tongue in a provocative symphony.
Susana gritted her teeth and forced herself to hold still as the delicious torture continued. She very badly wanted to know what he planned next.
Ah. What he planned next was the other foot. Now he held them both and he alternated from one to the other, laving, exploring, and—dear God—nibbling his way over her feet, up her ankles, and to her calves.
His touch burned her, ignited her. It caused ripples of delight and agony to dance over her nerves. She hadn’t been touched for a long while. Not really touched. To have this, to have him, reveling, licking, exploring every inch, was delightful. And annoying.
Because he was far too thorough. She knew where he was heading with this, and she wanted him there.
Now.
She squirmed lower on the bed and he chuckled. Then he explored her knees. She had no idea her knees were so sensitive. No idea his enticing touch there could arouse her so. He continued higher, to her thighs. She stilled, barely daring to breathe as he crept closer and closer to the weeping core of her being.
And then he rose up and wrenched her legs apart in one fierce move until she was open to him, bare, vulnerable.
He stared at her for a long, long while, as though memorizing each line, each minute curl. Hand trembling, he touched her, softly, a whisper of a caress, drifting his fingers through her down. He caught her gaze as he pressed in.
She arched as he scraped that bundle of nerves, humming there, nestled there in a secluded bower. Sensation whipped through her, and glory and rain. She wanted to collapse into it, melt into it, dissolve. But there was more. Much more to be had.
Panting, she studied the tight lines of his face as he explored her cleft. Each stroke was dizzying. Each caress sublime. He drew a circle around her pearl and then another, each nearer to the aching tip. Before he reached it, he stopped—which frustrated her to no end—but then he slipped his finger between her swollen lips.
“It’s not raining now,” he mumbled.
She had no clue what he was talking about and she hardly cared.
Snarling at him, she thrust her hips forward. Their eyes locked. He made a feral sound himself, something like a growl, and buried his face between her thighs.
And, ah! Glory!
He sucked and suckled her, laved and lapped. Nibbled and nipped. His tongue, so talented, drove her to insane heights. Crazed and mindless, she fell back on the mattress and spread her legs wider and urged him on. When he slowed, when it seemed as though he was about to stop, she buried her nails in his scalp. He grunted against her and shifted and then … ah, and then he slid a finger into her. Nae. Two.
Her body closed around him and she shuddered. He made another sound, a moan perhaps, and then eased out.
She panted, aching, writhing in anticipation as he hovered there, at her entrance. Toying with her. “Do it,” she commanded.
To her dismay, he did not. To her dismay, he lifted his head and smiled at her with damp lips. “Beg me.” A whisper. An insidious snaking whisper.
�
�What?”
“Beg me, Susana. It’s a simple word, please. And you know you want it.” Mockingly, he thumbed her pearl until she whimpered, quailed.
“Do it.”
“Say please.”
She glowered at him but she knew, he knew, she wouldn’t resist for long. “Please.” Reluctant and gritted out, but well worth it.
He didn’t hesitate. He shoved his fingers into her and filled her and stroked her. He sought and found a spot, deep within, something magical and manic, and he strummed her there like a lute, creating music in her head, a heavenly song.
Tension rose. A ball in her belly grew and swelled and then released. With a cry, she reached her crescendo, her delirium, her doom.
He continued to toy with her as she recovered herself, keeping her roused, wanting. The smile on his face was one she would expect, cocky and triumphant.
Ach, he was irresistible, this man. As aggravating as he was, he was irresistible.
While she didn’t like being made to beg—she never had—she was thankful he had turned their play in this direction.
Because, in her estimation, it was an engraved invitation to do the same to him.
She smiled at him as she rose up. Took his head in her hands and kissed his be-dewed beard, his cheeks, his lips.
It was a pity he didn’t have any clue what she was about to do to him.
Then again, if he had, he would run.
* * *
Susana kissed him with a ferocity he hadn’t expected, but definitely liked. It had been a joy, tasting her, lapping her, bringing her to orgasm. He’d especially loved the way her body closed around him, clenching and sucking and quivering as she lost all control. Her moans and cries had enflamed him.
He was burning to take her, to mount her, to bury his hard cock in her velvet sheath. He met and matched her kiss with his own, consuming her, dominating her. He levered up with the intent to press her back down onto the mattress, to kick off his breeks, or at least open the placket, and claim her.
She didn’t let him.
With a fist to his hair, she yanked him back, unsealing their mouths and staring at him with a resolute expression. It sent a ribbon of heat licking through him. “Susana,” he growled. “I want you.”
