Tamed by a Highlander

by Paula Quinn

  He closed his eyes when she ran her hands down his chest, feeling him, enjoying every muscle that grew harder at her touch. When her small hands began to untie the laces of his breeches, he opened his eyes, curious and aflame at the thought of her touching him. But she had more in mind than doing just that. He watched her, as he had in his most lurid dreams, while she set his cock free.

  She startled at the urgency of its ascension, then bit the edge of her bottom lip, perusing him with a hooded, lusty gaze that made him stiffer, straighter, before her eyes.

  “My, but ye look good enough to eat.” Her husky appraisal made him ache deep down in his shaft. When she moved down his hips, pulling at his breeches as she went, he thought of the ways he wanted to have her. She would submit to all by the time he was through.

  He doubted his own conviction a moment later when she crawled between his bare thighs and took his shaft in her hand. She dipped her head. Connor bit his lip and nearly came in her mouth when her lips caressed his thick head. He made himself think of a hundred different things to relax his body, like how she knew to do such a thing. He didn’t care. This, he could have her do all night. She took him a bit deeper, her teeth gently scoring his flesh. The muscles in the backs of his thighs spasmed and he pulled her toward him before he expelled too quickly.

  He laid her back against the soft mattress and kicked off his boots and the breeches crumpled around his ankles. “I want to be inside ye.”

  Nestled against her heat, he looked down into her eyes, loving her more than he thought possible. He was sick with it, would perish without it. “Ah, Mairi MacGregor, what ye’ve done to my poor, pitiful heart.”

  “And ye to mine, Connor Grant.” She spread her thighs beneath him, offering him everything he wanted.

  He kissed her parted lips, delving slowly, deeply into the furthest recesses of her mouth. She answered by laving her tongue over his and sucking gently when he withdrew.

  They stared into each other’s eyes while he pushed his arousal against her opening. He pressed several more slow kisses along her chin and neck as his head broke through.

  Having lived among his troupes for years, he knew he was big by other men’s measurements. He never cared before, but there was something about watching her take all of him that fired his blood to scalding.

  “I love ye,” he whispered at her ear, sinking into her. She cried out, still unable to take him fully without pain. It proved that sucking his cock was an innate skill, not a practiced one. She was a woman, no matter how much she despised being one. “Only ye. Always ye.”

  She coiled her legs around his waist and bucked under him. She tossed back her head, caught up in their dance, rubbing her hungry little bud over his hard shaft. He rode her like a tumultuous wave, holding her close, looking into her eyes.

  She smiled at him, her languid gaze begging him for more. He obliged by slipping his hand beneath her, cupping her buttocks. He rose to his knees and pushed her up to meet his forceful thrusts. He watched her climax begin and lifted the rest of her off the bed and into his arms. She threw back her head, spilling her long hair to the mattress and drenching him in a sea of sweet nectar. Driving into her harder, he drowned her in an ocean of his own.

  Later, they spoke of love, and of children… and of her knowledge of cooking—or rather, her lack of it.

  Mairi almost sighed with pure delight. It was what she had always wanted. She would leave the militia and devote her life to her husband and their bairns.

  But not tonight.

  And, if she was being truthful, she likely wouldn’t give up practicing with her blades every day… in the event of some king barging in on her happy, peaceful life.

  But she might never have that life if someone didn’t discover something soon. Connor said they needed proof that the king may have already lost the de Veres’ support. She couldn’t imagine it being so. Unless Henry was so well skilled in the art of deception that he had fooled her. Nae, he loved her. That was all she had ever seen in his eyes. But… she remembered, she had never figured out her whole Cameronian dilemma with him.

  Well, there was only one way to find out information. Getting close to your enemies.

  She waited until Connor began to snore, then slipped out of the bed. She didn’t make a sound, learning long ago how to move about a room without disturbance. She didn’t want to wake him, but she didn’t care if she did. She wasn’t going to sit idly by while her future was given to another. It was sweet of Connor to want to protect her… but a little insulting too. She couldn’t fault him entirely for fearing for her safety though, since he didn’t know how many times she had done this before.

  She dressed quickly, choosing her Highland skirts for easier reach to her daggers, should she need them, and pinning up her hair with the rapier-thin knife Hamish MacLeod made for her three summers ago when he taught her to pick locks. She would have to make certain that the Earl of Oxford was still enjoying the gaiety of the Banqueting Hall and not already in his lodgings.

  She slipped out of her room, shut the door behind her, and looked up into Henry’s horrifying face.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Good Lord, what had Connor done to him? The flesh around Henry’s eyes was purple and yellow, his nose swollen to over half its size. When he opened his mouth to speak to her, she noted two of his teeth missing.

  “Miss MacGregor,” he said stiffly when she recoiled. “Are you leaving?”

  “I am on my way to the Banqueting Hall for something to—”

  “You are wearing your Highland attire,” he cut her off politely, then flicked his gaze over her back, to the door. “Are you leaving Whitehall?”

  “In a few days, aye.” She moved away from her room, hoping he would follow her. She didn’t want Connor waking up and spoiling her plans. Having Henry here was bad enough.

  “You will not be attending the wedding then?”

  “Nae.” She cast him a hard look over her shoulder and continued walking.

  “Nor am I.” He hurried to reach her. “How can I celebrate my sister being bound to the animal who did this to me.”

  Mairi looked him over. He appeared terribly serious. Hell, she wouldn’t want Connor for her brother-in-law if she were Henry.

  “How could ye indeed?”

  She hadn’t considered that he would disapprove of the union. How far would he be willing to go to stop it? Mayhap she wouldn’t have to sneak into the earl’s lodgings at all. “Pity there is nothing ye can do to put an end to this.”

  “Put an end to it?” he asked. “But how?”

  “I dinna’ know. That is why I said there is nothing ye can do.” She sighed and looped her arm through his.

  He paused momentarily while he looked to be mulling over something he could, in fact, do. “Perhaps a second blade would accomplish what the first could not.”

  Mairi blinked at him as he picked up his steps, taking her with him. “Ye mean kill him?” Hell, she didn’t think he would go that far.

  “I can think of no other way to stop my sister from marrying him.”

  “Nae, ye canna’ kill him.” Heart pounding, she softened her voice, choosing her words carefully. “Consider what the king’s new Parliament would do to yer faither if ’twas ever discovered that ye had James Stuart’s nephew killed.”

  “But how would they discover it if the only soul who knew was you?”

  Mairi stared at him impassively, though it took great effort. Hell, but she had underestimated him. Tender gaze intact, he smiled as the veiled threat left his lips. “Would you tell them because you love him, Mairi?”

  She could challenge him, but that would be foolish. He hated Connor and he would hate her as well if she defended his rival. She wanted information from him, and admitting that she would go to the king if he harmed Connor, or that she would do so after she spilled his intestines on Whitehall’s marble floors, would gain her nothing.

  She smiled up at him from beneath the rings of her lashes tryin
g hard to ignore the many colors between his eyes. “Have I misled ye to believe me a fool, Henry? Who would ever believe the word of a Catholic Highlander over the son of a prominent earl? Besides, I dinna’ approve of what Captain Grant did to ye.”

  He patted her hand and laughed softly. “You don’t need to resort to violence, do you, Mairi. Your womanly wiles are your true best weapon. As far as the king’s new Parliament,” he continued while she stared up at him wondering if he had seen through her this easily from the beginning, “I dare say they would do nothing if they weren’t the king’s, after all.”

  Her heart froze. There it was! Exactly what Connor had hoped for! A de Vere’s confession that James did not have their support!

  But it was too easy. Why would Henry even suggest such a…

  She stopped thinking when something soft covered her mouth and an acrid scent stung her nostrils. She wanted to reach for one of her daggers, but she couldn’t move. She felt herself falling and someone catching her, but everything went black after that.

  Connor sat bolt upright, awakened from his dreams by a pound to his arm, and ready to send the striker to his end.

  “What are ye doing in my sister’s bed?” Colin demanded when Connor released his plaid and pushed him away. “And where the hell is she?”

  Connor looked at the other side of the bed, then at the small archway leading to the private privy. “Mairi?” he called. When no response came, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and snapped off his covering a moment after Colin turned away and cursed him again.

  “Is the hour late?”

  “Aye, ’tis,” Colin told him while he pulled on his breeches. “And she is not with yer mother.”

  “How do ye know?”

  Colin turned to him. “Lady Huntley retired earlier.”

  Hell. Connor felt a wave of panic course through him as he sat again to shove his feet into his boots. He knew he shouldn’t have told her anything. She was likely in the Earl of Oxford’s lodgings at this very moment! Thickheaded wench!

  “Come!” Connor commanded, springing to his feet. “We have to stop her before she gets herself thrown into prison.”

  “Stop her from what?” Colin followed him around to the other side of the bed, where Connor snatched his shirt from the floor.

  “From prowling about in Charles de Vere’s rooms in search of—”

  Colin stopped him with a hand to his arm. “Oxford?” He grew pale and for the first time Connor saw fear in the young Highlander’s eyes. “Och, hell, Connor. ’Tis what I came to speak to her about. I was thinking about last night, when I sat at Mairi’s table. It hadna’ occurred to me at the time why Henry nearly fell out of his chair when he saw me. ’Twas my hood.” He spoke quickly when Connor shook his head, not understanding. “ ’Tis the mantle I wear when I…” He paused for just an instant, likely not wanting to admit to Connor what he already knew. “… when I go on raids with the militia”

  “So? Colin, fer hell’s sake, let’s go. Tell me on the way.”

  Connor was the first out the door. He made his way for the promenade on the west wing with Colin at his side.

  “Connor, the sight of me scared the shyt out of him. It hit me tonight why? He recognized that mantle. I didna’ think ’twas possible, but I canna’ deny his reaction.”

  “But how could he recognize it unless he…” Connor’s words trailed off and his boots slowed. The drumming of his heartbeat in his ears nearly drowned out Colin’s voice as he finished for him.

  “Unless he was where he shouldna’ have been.”

  “ ’Tis proof that he, and therefore, most likely, his father, work against James with the Cameronians.” Connor would have grinned at such brilliant news if Mairi weren’t off somewhere alone and in possible danger.

  “Aye, ’tis proof. But there is more.”

  More? Connor thought picking up his swift pace again. This was exactly what he needed to bring before James. The only thing better than this was a confession. Had Colin managed to get one? “Tell me?”

  “We all wear the mantles, Connor.”

  This time, Connor stopped dead and turned to see the same terrible, suffocating fear on Colin’s face that he wore on his own. “Are ye telling me he might recognize Mairi, as well?”

  “We took precautions,” Colin said hastily, keeping pace when Connor began to run. “There was one night… in Glen Garry when she swung her blade at our enemy in the dark. I didna’ check to make certain he was dead.”

  Hell. Oxford’s scar! Had Mairi’s blade given it to him? Oxford had to know, or suspect it. That was why he knew to speak to Mairi about the Cameronians. He hadn’t heard her while she spoke to Queensberry. He knew who her enemies were. He’d known exactly how to lure her away. But if he meant to harm her, why hadn’t he tried already? “He loves her.” He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until Colin asked whom he meant.

  “Henry. He’s in love with yer sister.” For the first time, Connor was thankful for it. He had to get to the earl’s rooms. Or should he go to Henry’s? No, Mairi would not have gone to Henry’s private chambers. He had to find her and get her the hell out of Whitehall. He leaned over the walkway when he heard men’s laughter from below. He was grateful when he saw Andrew Seymour and his twin brother, Alex, leaving the Privy Garden with two of the king’s female guests.

  He called to them. Their shoulders straightened when they looked up, ready to do their captain’s bidding.

  “Alex, go to Henry de Vere’s lodgings and make certain he is alone. If he is with Miss MacGregor, bring her to me. Let nothing stop ye. Andrew, wake Lieutenant Drummond and then my father. Tell them to meet me at the Earl of Oxford’s door. Go now!” he shouted. “Make haste!”

  He didn’t wait to see the frown the two ladies sent him but continued quickly on his way with Colin hot on his heels.

  Questions nagged him while he turned left down the long walkway to his destination. If Oxford knew it was Mairi who cut him, what plans did he have for her? Nothing pleasant, Connor thought, remembering Henry’s crude words about her in the tiltyard. Hell, how could no one know that the de Veres were involved with Richard Cameron’s followers? What did it mean for the king? How could they bring this proof before James without admitting that Mairi and Colin were Highland assassins?

  Satan’s balls, he would think on it later. First, he had to find Mairi.

  When they reached the earl’s door, Connor tried the handle. Locked. Mairi couldn’t be inside unless the earl had discovered her and locked her in.

  “Let me.” Colin pushed him aside and produced a thin blade from the folds in his plaid. He worked the lock for a moment or two while Connor watched, remembering how easily Mairi had stolen into Queensberry’s rooms and sickened that she was as skilled at opening doors she wasn’t meant to enter as her brother was.

  The locked clicked open and Colin entered the room without haste. He made no sound as he searched the dark rooms and finally stood over the earl’s bed.

  Mairi wasn’t here. But the earl was, sound asleep with a serving wench snoring across his chest.

  Connor’s heart faltered. Could she be with Henry? Was he overreacting? Had she simply gone to get something to eat? They left the rooms and stepped back into the hall to see Alex Seymour hurrying toward them.

  “Lord Oxford was not in his room, Captain.”

  Connor felt the blood drain from his face. Both Oxford and Mairi away from their beds at this ungodly hour? It was more than just coincidence. They were together. But where? They weren’t in the garden. Alex and Andrew had come from outdoors only moments ago. They would have mentioned seeing Oxford. Had Mairi gone with him willingly? Hell, he feared she might go to him for the answers Connor needed. Surely though, she would not wander off with him alone when more than half the palace was asleep? He was about to run for the Banqueting Hall when he spotted a glimmer of golden curls before they disappeared around the bend of another corridor.

  Elizabeth!

 
; “Alex, wait here fer the others. Tell them Miss MacGregor is with Lord Oxford and must be found.”

  “Where are ye going?” Colin raced to keep up with him when he took off after Elizabeth.

  “The better question is where is she going?” Connor pointed to the back of Elizabeth’s gown as she hurried down the stairs a few yards away.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Mairi awoke to the kind of terror she had never felt before. She was bound. Her wrists, above her head… her mouth… her ankles. Suspended from rope, shrouded in darkness. Panic engulfed her making her dizzy. God, she couldn’t pass out again. She fought to breathe, to calm herself. She couldn’t let fear overpower her. It was something every warrior was taught, and Claire had been fearless indeed.

  What had befallen her? She couldn’t remember how she came to be here. She had been with Connor…

  Something—or someone—moved past her, unseen in the absence of light, making her hair rise off her body. Her resolve faltered and she struggled heedlessly against her bindings.

  A sudden flash of light before her face stilled her efforts. Her vision took a moment to adjust to what stood before her. Or rather who. His face, a grotesque mask of lumps and bruises. Henry. She had been walking with him…

  He placed his candle down on some sort of perch beside her and lit another, and then another, until her surroundings shimmered in the golden light.

  Where the hell was she? She looked around at nothing but stone walls and a dirt floor.

  “Did you know that Whitehall was once called York House?” Henry turned to her and removed his wig. “It was once inhabited by the archbishops of York and became the seat of Cardinal Wolsey. He, as you may or may not know, was a man of rather savage inclinations and had these passageways built beneath the wine cellars for his personal pleasure.”

  She was still inside Whitehall. But what good did it do her? She doubted anyone even knew about this place, save for Henry.

  He moved toward her. Mairi stiffened. She could hold on to the rope above her and lift both her feet to send him sprawling into the nearest wall. But she would remain bound until he recovered—and then…. She had to think, but she couldn’t when his fingers touched her face.