by Mary McCall
gazed at him through imploring eyes.
Duncan caught the smirk on Alera's face. “Minx.” He took hold of Megan's free hand and retained his grasp on Alera's. “If I am going to look daft for my women, then they can hold onto me while I do."
With hands linked, the three skipped in a circle while drinking the rain and laughing uproariously.
Kevin and Father Cunningham rounded the keep and saw the game.
"Saint Ninian, help us,” Kevin lamented and slammed a hand against his cheek. “The laird has gone daft."
"Nay, lad,” Father said with a satisfied chuckle. “The laird is in love and has his daughter back. He has turned into a happy man."
Sunlight peeked through frolicking leaves, shadow dancing on the grassy banks of the secluded inlet. Twitters, tweets, and trills from joyful birds orchestrated a chorus, harmonizing with the gentle song of a single cricket near the clear pool.
Alera spread a blanket on the ground then sat and placed her pouch beside her. She slipped out of her gown and shift then untied the cord that bound her hair. The tresses cascaded, caressing down to her hips.
She pulled a chunk of Duncan's soap, a comb, and a bath sheet from the pouch. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the tantalizing, crisp scent of heather, rosemary, sandalwood, and pine. Emerald eyes, burning with desire, seared into her mind. Firm smooth lips descended. Her mouth parted. A rush of flutters stirred inside her belly.
Alera raised a hand to her throbbing breast. Reality crashed upon her, and she groaned. Her desire for Duncan gnawed at her more torturously than all her bruises.
She looked at the water, and her lips twisted over the irony. The cool water might soothe and clean her flesh, but she wouldn't receive relief for her wanton ardor. Only Duncan could do that. And he hadn't touched her since the night before he left for Inverness. Since then, Megan had slept with them.
Brushing a hand across her cheek, she picked up the soap and bath sheet then walked to the river's edge near a long, low-hanging branch that extended over the water. She left the bath sheet on the grass and held onto the branch as she stepped into the stream. When the water reached her waist, she set the soap upon the branch and submerged. She arose, dripping and shivering.
After pushing her hair behind her back, she soaped up her hands, set the chunk back on the branch, and stroked her slick breasts and arms.
"Need any help?"
Alera gasped and turned, folding her arms over her breasts. Duncan waded into the water. The sight of his brawny torso sent her heart racing. Fearing her knees might buckle, she grabbed the branch and knocked the soap into the water. Her jaw went slack as her gaze locked on his mouth. She remembered how smooth, hard, and hot his lips always felt upon hers. He had gorgeous lips.
She shivered, unable to stop staring. A knowing grin uplifted the corners of his mouth, sending a fiery flush through her flesh, and an erotic flutter in her womb made her tremble.
"I...” She gulped then cleared her throat. “I dropped...the soap."
"I'll get it."
Duncan lowered under the water. He slid sleek as a seal between her legs. Her womb clenched. She hissed out a breath as he came up behind her less than an inch away. He shook his head, sending a shower of droplets splattering upon them.
His hot breath fanned her ear. A tingle vibrated down to the core of her heat. She closed her eyes, drew in a ragged breath. His tongue swirled inside her sensitive ear canal. Heated chills sizzled through her.
"Mmm. How far did you get?” he whispered in a husky tone.
Her body recognized the erotic call in his timbre, and her belly quaked. “My chest...and arms,” she answered in a breathy voice. “I was going to...wash my hair next."
Wet strands caressed along her back as he lifted the thick mane and lathered her hair. His arm moved around her and set the soap on the branch. His hands—strong hands—pleasure giving hands—slowly encompassed and massaged her scalp. He stroked lower, gliding skilled fingers over her neck, shoulders, and spine. She arched. Her head fell back to rest upon his chest. Magic thumbs rubbed small circles over her lower back. Then his hands splayed over her flanks and slid around to grasp her hips.
Saints above, breathing required a conscious effort. “Duncan, I...please do not. My... ‘Twill hurt if you touch...my front."
"Rinse."
"What?” she asked, panting as he gave the tip of her earlobe a love nip.
"Rinse.” He applied gentle pressure to her shoulder.
She let her wobbly legs collapse beneath her, somehow remembering to suck in a breath. His fingers combed through her hair, helping the currents wash away the soap. Just when she felt ready to burst with a need for fresh air, his hands caught her underarms and lifted her back against him. His swollen shaft slithered between her slick legs. She instinctively clasped her thighs together, holding him captive in a primal plea.
He growled his pleasure into her ear, his lips searing into the center of her neck. He nipped and sucked a fiery trail around to her opposite ear then suckled the lobe and swept his tongue into the canal. She cocked her head to ease his access.
A pleasured groan caught in her throat. Tiny pulses washed over her. Her gut knotted as the familiar, longed-for pressure built in her womb. She
clutched at his hands on her waist for support as her knees folded.
"Hold onto the branch, Alera."
What was he saying? She couldn't seem to think. She pressed backward against him, her eyes shut. An erotic quaver shuddered through her body.
"I like the way you burn for me,” he whispered. “Eight days is too long to go without tasting your passion."
He nipped the tip of her earlobe. Sparks throbbed through her yet again. “Duncan, please..."
"Soon, love. Hold onto the branch.” He guided her arms and upper body forward.
She stretched over the water, holding onto the tree for support, her bottom pressed tightly against his loins. Cool liquid lapped and swirled beneath her, occasionally licking her tender peaks.
Magic fingers caressed up her arms to her shoulders. His tongue laved the hollow of her neck. His hands moved to her front and hovered beneath her throbbing breasts less then a hair's breath away, never touching. Anticipation built to an exquisite torture. She wiggled her bottom against him, massaging the hard flesh between her legs.
Duncan growled and moved his hands to her hips, impeding the action. She moaned. He nipped her neck then blew on the spot. “Who do you belong to, Alera?"
Alera trembled beneath him, totally surrounded and dominated by his virile power and scent.
"Tell me,” he demanded, grasping her hair and turning her face to his. “Look me in the eyes and tell me who you belong to."
Alera slowly opened her eyes. “You."
"Say my name, Alera. Say the name of the man you belong to."
Alera closed her eyes and swallowed. Desire shuddered through her. “'Tis you, Duncan. Please...do not make me say more."
"Forever, Alera. You will stay with me—forever mine."
Lord, how she hated her lies. She blinked back tears. “Until you tire of me, and if that be forever, then I will stay."
Duncan released his grip on her hair and massaged her scalp, brushing his lips over her mouth. His jaw rubbed over the crown of her head as he inhaled her sweet feminine scent. He nudged her legs apart with his knee, repositioned himself at her opening, and slowly pushed inside.
Damn it all, he burned for her. Her feminine muscles hugged him so tight, so right. He was too near his own release to give her pleasure. He stopped. Tensed every muscle in his body. Savored her tight heat. Struggled to suppress the overwhelming urgency in his loins.
She trilled and moved against him. “Now, Duncan! Please!"
Her plea sent him over the edge. He stood upright, gripped her hips, and surged into her, burying his pulsating shaft to the hilt and causing her to take more of him than she ever had. Ensnared by lust and goaded on by a primitive need, he ignored her stra
ngled outcry and thrust a wild rhythm.
Alera thrilled as her body accommodated to his size and savage pace. Pressure rebuilt in her womb. She caught his primal rhythm as a sizzle vibrated through her body. She moaned her newfound pleasure, released the tree, and arched wildly against him.
Her abrupt position change jolted Duncan. With a warrior's cry, he lunged into her and released himself, shuddering as his seed shot within her tight feminine core.
The heat of his explosion against her womb sent erotic throbs pulsating through Alera's belly. She grasped his wrists for support and moved against him, seeking her own release, groaning her desperation.
Duncan came out of his euphoria and saw her struggle. He cursed himself for lack of control. “Easy, love. Let me take you there. Put your arms behind my back and clasp your hands."
Alera did as he bade. Duncan wrapped one arm around her waist and slid his other hand to the juncture between her legs. Her moans and whimpers drove him wild, re-igniting his desire. He hardened inside her as he stroked her feminine folds. Tasted her shoulder with his tongue. Then he nipped her neck and resumed his thrusts.
The fragrance of nature mixed with their combined scents. Her erotic moans surrounded him. Cold water swirled around their hot bodies in a scintillating dance. Alera tensed. He blew hot air against her neck while increasing the vigor of his thrusts and pressure of his massaging fingers.
She arched back against him, crying his name over and over in a rapturous chant. Her currents of bliss inflamed Duncan's second release, and his cry mingled with hers.
Just as she fainted, he wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her limp body against him in a possessive embrace. Damn, if she hadn't brought him along twice.
He eased out of her and lifted her into the cradle of his arms, marveling at her ability to give so completely. He kissed her brow, cherishing the gift of her. He had sensed a growing tenderness in her manner toward him. She wouldn't deny her rightful place in his life any longer.
He carried her from the water and couched her upon the blanket. Then he retrieved the bath sheet and tenderly dried her body. The bruises and scratches marring her flesh faded but still commanded attention. He picked up the balm and rubbed it into her flesh. She purred as his hands glided over her breasts. He grinned. The lass deserved a reward for what he had just experienced.
Alera slowly came back to reality. Callused hands eased across her belly. A fire kindled in her womb. She loved when Duncan woke her this way.
A knee nudged at her thighs. She spread her legs in invitation. Hot breath fanned her knee. Fiery lips pressed against her inner thigh.
Alera smiled and released a blissful moan. His mouth branded her flesh. Two hands slipped under her bottom, lifted her slightly then hot air blew against her most private place.
She tensed and opened her eyes. “Duncan?"
"Hummm?"
Alera rose up on her elbows. He knelt between her legs with his mouth almost touching... “Duncan, nay!"
A wicked light flickered in emerald eyes as they captured hers. He raised her to his mouth, without breaking her gaze, and flicked his tongue along her sensitive nub.
A jolt shot through her. She tensed, unable to look away. “Nay?"
He grinned. “Aye."
Pressing his mouth against the center of her desire, he suckled gently.
The pleasure was too intense. Alera tried to pull away, but he tightened his hold. “Duncan, you cannot!"
"I can.” He kneaded her bottom and let his tongue lave in carnal strokes. “Mmm."
By all that's holy, the man was feasting on her. She was coming apart. Her head dropped back. Her hands twisted into the blanket at her sides. When his tongue finally dipped into her core, she thought she truly shattered. He suckled harder.
She slipped into a sensual euphoria, shouting his name.
Alera opened her eyes. Duncan's face smiled above. Her head rested upon his thigh, and he was fussing with her hair.
"What are you doing?” She lifted her head to look at his hands.
He broadened his grin. “I am braiding your hair like mine."
She frowned. “I always wear my hair up, so the curls fall down my back, or in one fat braid. Those skinny braids will not keep it from my face."
A tender light flickered in his eyes. “I want your hair hanging free, so your tresses tumble in shimmering swirls around you, reflecting golden highlights."
"'Twill tangle and take forever to comb out the snarls."
He sighed. “You can put it up after."
"After what?"
"After we say our vows before Father Cunningham.” His voice sounded full of satisfaction and warmth. “I want your hair down for our wedding."
"I have not agreed to marry you!” At least she hoped she hadn't. Thinking became a chore when he touched her. She could have said anything.
His eyes narrowed. “You agreed you're mine and you'll stay forever. I said you're mine. Had we two witnesses, we'd already be wed.” Alera tried to sit up. He restrained her with a hand across her upper chest. “You will stop your foolishness and wed me today."
"Nay.” She shook her head. “You cannot hold me to anything I said when you were... You told me ‘twould be my decision. That I could take as long as I needed to decide."
The muscle flexed in his cheek. “You've already decided."
"Nay.” She thrust her chin upward. “I am your whore. I will stay until you tire of me. If that be forever, then so be it, but I will not be forced to wed."
"Damn it, Alera, you're not a whore. You're mine.” He wiped a hand over his face and released a frustrated sigh. “Do you still hate me so much for keeping you?"
He sounded wounded. She turned her face toward his abdomen. “I do not hate you, Duncan. I am... very fond of you. I must settle something in my mind or I would wed you and be done with your infernal pestering."
"What must you settle, Alera?"
"I am searching, Duncan. Please do not press me further now. I promise I will tell you when I know."
"Know what?"
"The truth, and I pray to Almighty God that I find it soon.” She was so tired of lies. Duncan was good to her and didn't deserve them, but Papa had to come first. She wished she could tell him and depend on him to help her find her father. But Duncan's hatred of Englishmen ran deep. He probably wouldn't let her search for Papa. Nor could she expect Duncan to leave his clan for the length of a search— especially when ‘twas only an unexplainable feeling that made her think him still alive. Unless she revealed her curse, he wouldn't understand. That, she couldn't risk.
He caressed a finger along her jaw. “Can I help you with this quest?"
"Nay.” A wealth of anguish poured through the word.
He turned her chin until she looked at him again. “You are mine, Alera.” His voice held a tender yet determined chord. “I told you before that I'll not give up."
"I...I do not want you to give up.” Rolling onto her side, she slipped her arms around his waist and held him tight. “I just need to settle something in my mind."
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Eleven
Alera rested on the cool green carpet of tender grass beneath rustling birches. Spring fled into summer in this secluded glen that Duncan had suggested as her spot. Splatters of purple and darker foliage randomly scattered the clearing as the heather donned festive garb for the season. She snapped off a twig and inhaled its soothing fragrance but found no relief to the turmoil that plagued her mind.
Her reflection wavered in the water of the brook at her feet. Her bruises had faded. She looked no different than the young woman who had known her mind but two months before.
Nay, ‘twas not quite true. Shame hadn't shimmered in her eyes then. Nor had she known the depth of her wanton streak. Memories of Duncan's touch haunted her when he wasn't near. Raw desire anticipated his caresses when he was. ‘Twas surely a more sinful flaw than the curse of her rage.
Megan had sl
ipped into her heart. Notions of motherhood played through her mind. She wanted a family again. Children. Duncan's children.
Clanswomen had assumed the duties in the keep. She couldn't pass them without hearing the words whore, bizzem, and slut tossed her way. Whenever she left the keep, women pulled their children out of her path and turned their backs. She didn't understand their continued contempt when all knew ‘twas Duncan who forced her to stay.
While the clansmen were more accepting, she felt too mortified to afflict them with her company.
Her lie to Duncan that she wouldn't escape tore at her heart. She might give in when he plagued her about marriage again. Then if he should fall in love with another woman, they would both be miserable and he would come to resent her.
She also must consider her curse. The demon was under control. But what if something happened and the beast unleashed? What if she couldn't master it? She might kill again and Mama wasn't here to save her.
Even though Megan still had fears, the girl no longer needed her touch. Other than her love for Duncan, she had no reason not to seek Papa at once. Her love grew stronger each day, and her loyalty faltered. How could she turn her back on Papa or Duncan? If she went to find Papa, would Duncan let her come back? She certainly couldn't ask him to help her. With his hatred of the English, he would scoff at such a request.
She was Papa's only hope. She must not tarry longer at Laidirkin.
Perhaps Mama's clan might help her. At least they might if she could get to Aunt Toril before Uncle Julien learned of her whereabouts. Mama always said Uncle Julien would do anything for Aunt Toril. She was his only weakness.
Alera dipped a toe into the chilled stream and watched the waves ripple away from her, ever widening until they were no more. Wait! What if Uncle Julian decided to marry her to someone else? She didn't want to marry anyone but Duncan. Oh Lord, she meant that. She had best make straight for Arundrydge and Daryl. He would help her find Papa.
"Alera, my dear sister, attende."
"Chris?” she whispered, relief flowing through her. She closed off the outside world and all her distressing thoughts so she could concentrate on the mental connection and send her thoughts to her sister. "Chris, are you well?
