Kissing the Highlander

by Terry Spear

  "'Tis naught," she whispered, turning away. The tears in her voice flayed him.

  "Three and twenty is young. I'm five years older." He feared his lame attempt at soothing her wouldn't work, but he wished to know more about her. "What happened… with the betrothals? Why did you not marry?"

  "None of them would have me after they… heard the rumors." Her voice hitched.

  "What rumors?"

  She shook her head. "I would rather not say."

  Nay, she wouldn't have him believe her a witch like everyone else did. She wanted Shamus to like her, to take her with him to his clan's castle. He was an honorable man who would protect her. Not like the cowards who accused her of witchcraft.

  "You can trust me. I'll not judge you."

  His smooth, rich voice sounded soothing in the darkness, and somehow she believed him. Still, she didn't wish him to know. 'Twould change things. He might even leave her here, if he feared witches.

  "Very well, then," he muttered. "Don't trust me."

  She turned halfway. "I do… trust you, but 'tis difficult for me to talk about it. I hope you can understand."

  Her horse started down the other side of the hill.

  "Where's he going?" Shamus asked.

  "Mayhap he's thirsty and kens there's a small loch at the bottom of the hill."

  Thankful for the excuse to escape the conversation, she caught up with Ruairi, led him down the hill to the water's edge, then held his bridle while he drank. Moonlight and the tall mountains around them reflected off the dark water.

  "Is it deep?" Shamus asked from a few yards away.

  "Toward the center it is. But the edges are shallow. I have swum here before."

  "You have?" His voice held surprise. "Nude?"

  "Nay! I wore a smock."

  She could not believe her eyes when Shamus started disrobing. "What are you about?" she asked.

  "I'm needing a wee swim. The cold water will… feel good. At home, I swim often in one of the three lochs that converge at Teasairg."

  Although she knew she should not watch him in the faint light, she could not look away. When he tossed down his last garment—his shirt—and stood naked, she could not believe how the moonlight glanced off his broad shoulders and the muscles of his arms and legs. Before she could discern any more detail, he waded into the loch and took off swimming.

  Ruairi lifted his head, water dripping from his mouth, and perked his ears at Shamus.

  "He is mad, is he not?" she whispered.

  Shamus swam back and forth across the center of the small loch twice. Heavens, he had endurance, and she was glad to see his shoulder was well recovered. Obviously, he was a tough Highlander. She had a wild urge to jump in herself, but she was not such a strong swimmer.

  He ducked beneath the water in the center of the loch and all went still. Where had he gone? Was he well? She scarce dared to breathe.

  With a splash, he broke the surface close in front of her, startling both her and Ruairi. The horse jerked his head and snorted.

  "Blast you," she muttered and tried to breathe normally again.

  He chuckled, then strode onto shore where he'd left his clothes a few yards away. He flung back his hair and observed her for a long moment in the dimness. The intimate areas of his body were in shadow, but the silhouette of his lean muscular form, his broad shoulders, trim hips, and strong thighs, did strange things to her. Made her feel warm and tingly inside.

  Slowly, silently, he moved toward her. What was he about?

  Chapter 8

  Shamus placed his wet hand against Maili's jaw and neck, drawing her to him. Shivers raced over her. He kissed her long and deep, with such passion she grew lightheaded. Though the rest of him was cool, his mouth was hot. She held onto his wet, slick skin, but her knees grew weak as her instincts urged her to submit to him. Give him what he craved, for 'twas the same thing she craved.

  The strong feeling that he was her man, her husband, and her soul mate burst through her.

  "Shamus."

  When he released her and drew away, she wanted to protest. But after grabbing his clothes, he lifted her into his arms and carried her up the hill. Among the standing stones, he lay her down on a soft, sheltered, grassy spot between the bushes.

  "I want you, Maili," he whispered in a desperate tone, placing kisses down her neck. "I don't ken why but…"

  "Aye," she urged. You are mine, Shamus. She wanted to tell him, but feared her words might cause him to stop.

  "I don't wish to hurt you," he said, unbuckling the belt of her arisaid.

  She shook her head. "You won't."

  Oh, aye, she wanted out of her clothing. She wanted to feel his bare skin against hers. The wind had calmed here among the stones and her skin felt as if it were burning.

  He tugged the clothing from her body and laid her upon his plaid. The water had dried from his skin and it felt warm and seductive sliding against hers. His hair was still wet and droplets from it cooled her face.

  He kissed her, drugging her as a love potion might. His stone hard shaft pressed against her thigh. She had never felt anything so arousing. She shifted, turning toward him so she could feel his hard length pressing against her lower belly. She gave in to the urge and thrust her hips against his, yearning for him with a breathless ache.

  "Och! Maili." He spread her thighs and settled between, then pulled her knee up beside his hip. He kissed her again, slow and deep. All the while the ache for him intensified. He moved down and brushed his warm lips over her breast, then drew the hard tip into his mouth. Good heavens, she had never felt anything so enticing. Combing her fingers through his damp hair and holding his head, she arched her body to him, offering him more. She became desperate and frantic with need.

  When the tip of his erection touched her in that most intimate spot, a shock went through her. She gasped. Though she feared that large, male part of him would hurt her, she craved it with such intensity she thought she would go mad.

  "Please," she breathed.

  "Maili, love, you are the sweetest, most delicious…" He kissed her and stroked himself against her. She was surprised at the hot, slick moisture she felt between them. Saints, but he was making her burn and ache. She widened her thighs, hoping he would hurry and ease whatever mad fever he had afflicted her with.

  With a sudden thrust, he was inside her. The pain of it shocked her and she cried out, tears pricking her eyes. Heavens! Had he caused her serious injury?

  "Shh, lass, the pain will be over in a moment." He held still, kissing her face, stroking her body. He moved down and trailed his tongue over her nipple, then drew it into his mouth.

  "Aye," she whispered. The more he suckled, the more her body heated and the more she grew accustomed to his invasion of her body. Her inner muscles clenched, caressing him.

  He growled and moved a bit, a slight withdrawal. But nay, she did not want him to leave her. She thrust her hips.

  "Oh saints, Maili," he hissed and pressed himself deeper still. The sharp pain returned and she dug her nails into his back.

  "Shh. Remain calm, mo graibh." Gently he withdrew and inched back in.

  'Twas not so bad that time. The next time was even better. As he slowly, gently moved, her body relaxed and she began meeting each of his thrusts, which gained speed and force. Such bliss he showered upon her.

  He growled Gaelic words in her ear about how amazing she felt, along with endearments, but she could scarce pay attention to them. She'd had no idea lovemaking was like this—a delightful and pleasurable paradise.

  As he moved, he lifted his upper body and propped on his hands, then gazed down at her. She could not see his eyes as she wished to, for they were in shadow. But as she observed his long dark hair, his broad shoulders, and the side of his square jaw, hard with passion, a mysterious sensation swelled within her, like a whirlpool of tingles spiraling through her body, taking her down into pure bliss and then it shattered within her, like thousands of stars exploding.

>   He moaned and shoved into her, where he held himself, his body shuddering. "Aye, Maili, you are mine," he growled.

  After a moment, he rolled to the side, breathing hard, and pulled her close to him.

  Tears of gratitude and love dripped from her eyes. She didn't know how it was possible she could love him so soon. But she did. The marrying stone must have somehow forged a soul-deep bond between them. She knew he had to feel it, too, given what he'd just said to her.

  "And you are mine, Shamus," she whispered, touching his scratchy, beard-roughened cheek. The words could have been marriage vows, considering how committed to him she felt.

  His breathing calming, he kissed her forehead, then tugged the plaid over them into a warm cocoon.

  ***

  What the devil had just happened? Shamus couldn't figure it out. He had bedded lasses before, but never had it been like this. Not wanting to let Maili go, he tightened his arms around her. He knew not what to say to her after that. He was near speechless. Baffled. Pulling her snug against his chest soothed him and made him relax. Her gentle hands moved over his bare back, stroking and caressing him. His heart pounded hard when he realized how precious she was to him. Och! He did not understand it. Never had he felt this way about a lass after lying with her, nor ever, for that matter.

  With the warm, woolen plaid over them and her safely tucked into his arms, he grew groggy. The next thing he was aware of was opening his eyes to early dawn light and cool white mist trailing through the stones around them. The mist moved as if it contained a life of its own. Fingers of pink dawn light slid through.

  "'Tis beautiful," he breathed.

  Maili awoke and her eyes widened upon him, as if shocked to remember what they'd shared… and that they were still naked beneath the plaid.

  "Look." He nodded toward the colorful sunrise beaming through the mist among the tall stones.

  She turned her head. "Oh," she breathed in wonder. "How lovely."

  "Aye." But he only had eyes for her now. "And you are lovely." With her head still turned aside, he kissed her ear, her throat. Her arms wound around his neck and she shivered. He moved down, placing wee cherishing kisses on her chest. When he reached her breast, he drew the rigid tip into his mouth. "Mmm," he breathed. Arousal surged through him, and he pushed his hardened shaft against her thigh.

  "Shamus," she whispered.

  "Aye." He shifted his attention to her other nipple, kissing and suckling.

  "I hate to say this," she said, "but I must… excuse myself."

  With regret, he lifted his head. "Of course. Me too. We need to be on our way soon, anyway." Unfortunately.

  He wished he could stay here with her forever.

  But a threat lingered about them. Once they discerned which way the MacDonalds had gone, they would head along the alternate route out of the area.

  Naked, he helped her dress in the pink dawn light. He then pulled his shirt over his head, belted his plaid about his waist and donned the baldric and weapons. She moved into the bushes and short trees out to the side of the stone circle.

  "Don't go far," he warned, then realized it had been a while since he'd seen her horse. After he relieved himself, he glanced about for Ruairi but saw naught. He shook his head, trying to clear it. While within the stone circle, he'd felt drugged and blissful. A pleasant experience to be sure with Maili, but now, reality returned with a vengeance. Her brother's men were out scouring the countryside for them.

  When Maili returned from the bushes, he said, "We must find your horse. I wonder if he's still by the loch."

  "Oh." Her eyes widened and she glanced about. "I'd forgotten about him because of…" Her gaze flew to him and a lovely blush brightened her cheeks.

  "Aye." He understood her meaning perfectly. "As did I. Come." He helped her down the hillside to the loch's edge. Pink dawn light reflected in the water's still surface and white mist floated above it.

  The horse was nowhere to be seen in either direction. He muttered a curse beneath his breath. He should've led the horse back to the stone circle with them last night and tethered him to a bush. But Maili, and the passion between them, had so distracted him, a horse was the last thing on his mind.

  "Do you think he returned to Bearach Castle?" he asked.

  "Mayhap. He does love oats for breakfast."

  'Slud. What would her clan think when the horse returned without her? Likely 'twould cause them to redouble their efforts in locating her. "We must continue our travels on foot, then."

  Once on the muddy trail her clansmen had taken the night before, he paused often, listening for any sounds that might tell him the men were returning. Two hours later, at the fork in the trail, he discovered fresh tracks going in both directions.

  "Damnation," he muttered. "The search party split here. Which route offers ample hiding places and bushes along it?" he asked her.

  Maili considered for a moment. "The trail south, I'm thinking."

  He nodded, preferring to travel south along the coast anyway, where he might find a galley to transport them north again to his clan's castle.

  After they'd each eaten a bannock while taking cover in a small wood beside the trail, he held her hand as they strode briskly along the narrow path, worn down from years of horse and foot traffic.

  A horse snorted off to the left of the trail, in the bushes. Shamus drew his sword. Was that Ruairi or a different horse? He dragged Maili for cover in the bush on the opposite side of the path but before they were out of sight, a horse and rider burst onto the trail.

  "Halt!" the bearded man yelled, his sword pointed at Shamus. Three armed men on foot stood at the ready beside him.

  'Twas the MacDonalds, of course. The bastard on horseback was the chief's war leader.

  "Go, hide in the bushes," he told Maili.

  Instead, she leapt in front of him. "Do not hurt him, Hamish!"

  Shamus pushed her behind him but she wouldn't stay put. She moved around his other side, flattened herself against his chest and wrapped her arms tightly around him.

  "Maili," he grumbled. How did she expect him to fight like this?

  "Step aside, m'lady," Hamish ordered. "I'll not kill this kidnapping bastard until your brother gives me leave to do so, but I might teach him a lesson or two." He sent Shamus a malicious grin.

  He would love to fight this whoreson, one on one. But this clan wouldn't give him that opportunity. He was constantly outnumbered. In fact, three more MacDonalds materialized out of the bushes. Seven to one.

  "Nay!" Maili shouted. "You will not touch him! He didn't kidnap me. I left of my own free will."

  "I didn't ken your brother allowed you to make such decisions." Hamish smirked. "But you can take that up with him."

  "I shall."

  "Disarm him and tie him up," Hamish commanded the other clansmen.

  They rushed to do his bidding. Shamus had little choice but to give up his weapons without a fight. He did not want Maili hurt in the ruckus. And she refused to turn him loose.

  "Step aside, m'lady," Hamish ordered in a more forceful tone.

  "Do not hurt him or you will regret it!"

  One of her clansmen pried her arms from around him, picked her up and carried her away.

  "Leave her be!" Shamus growled.

  "You're not the one giving orders, you whoreson!" Hamish said.

  The man set Maili on her feet some distance away. When she tried to escape, he held her in place.

  The men yanked at his arms, causing his shoulder—which had been healing—to twist painfully as they tied his hands behind his back. He grimaced but refused to allow them to know of the pain.

  "When your horse returned to the castle afore dawn, we kenned you were close by," Hamish said with a smug grin. "'Twas only a matter of finding you."

  Damnation, he'd known the horse would give them away.

  One of her clansmen led Ruairi from the bushes.

  "Mount so we can be on our way," Hamish told her.

  W
hen she hesitated, the man restraining her lifted her into the saddle.

  "Master MacKenzie will ride with me," she announced.

  Shamus was proud of her boldness and bravery but he feared it would get her into trouble, especially where her brother was concerned. In fact, he feared her brother might punish her for helping Shamus escape. He cursed under his breath. How could he have let this go so wrong?

  "Nay, MacKenzie will be walking," Hamish said.

  "Then I will, too." She dismounted.

  Hamish released what sounded to be an exasperated breath. "Suit yourself, m'lady. But you must keep up."

  Shamus considered various methods of escape on the way back to the castle, but he knew none of them would work. Not with Maili so close by. He would do naught to cause her injury. Now and then, he glanced at her, walking beside him. Every time her blue eyes met his, he could not fathom why his heart pounded and excitement raced through him. What magical powers did she hold over him? Did it have something to do with the standing stone circle? And the most difficult question of all—how could he escape the MacDonald clan and make her his wife?

  Chapter 9

  Once they reached the castle, Elrick awaited them in the bailey and a frisson of fear raced through Maili. His glare darted between her and Shamus. Sleat stood nearby, scowling. Elrick strode toward them and threw a hard punch into Shamus' stomach.

  "Stop!" She launched herself at her brother, but the large guard behind her caught her around the waist, her arms and legs flailing.

  "You bastard!" Elrick said to Shamus. "How dare you kidnap my sister?"

  Shamus was doubled over, gasping for breath.

  "Leave him be!" Maili shouted. "He didn't kidnap me. I left because I wanted to."

  "Take her upstairs and lock her in her bedchamber," he ordered the man restraining her.

  The giant picked her up, threw her over his shoulder and carried her up the steps.

  "Nay! You bastard! Release me!" She kicked and punched. Once inside the stairwell, he slapped her hard on the arse.