Taken: A Laird for All Time Novel (Volume 2)

by Angeline Fortin

  As if he knew just how far he had pushed her, Laird’s mouth trailed upward once more and her breath finally left her in a rush as she clung to him.

  His fingers were on the move also, finding the way inside her panties and thrusting deeply into her. Scarlett cried out, clinging helplessly to his shoulders as ecstasy ripped through her. She couldn’t have cared less that he hadn’t bathed.

  “Did ye miss me, lass?”

  Lost in sensation, she could only shake her head against his sweaty throat. His low growl rumbled against her. Winding his fingers around the side of her panties, he tore them away. Her only pair of real underwear but Scarlett couldn’t mourn the loss. They were gone for a good cause, she knew, when he brushed his kilt out of the way and lifted her legs around his hips. His forceful entry should have torn her apart but Scarlett was more than ready for him, so ready she was nearly swept away by the possession.

  “Did ye, lass?”

  Laird pinned her against the post and flexed his hips, pumping deeper into her. Her breath caught but she didn’t answer.

  “Lass?”

  He drove into her hard. Again and again until Scarlett’s thighs were quivering around him. His fingers bit into her bottom, holding her just so to receive him more deeply. Pleasure arced through her, her back bowed to draw him even deeper.

  “Lass! Scarlett!”

  He was insistent, as if knowing that he held her on the precipice of rapture’s waiting abyss. He wouldn’t let her leap, wouldn’t allow her to fall. Pleasure became torment, aching poignantly through her every extremity. “Och! But ye’ll be the death of me.” Increasing his pace, Laird carried her over the edge. His hoarse cry outweighed her soul-wrenching sob as they succumbed together, soaring instead of plummeting.

  Transcending instead of crashing.

  Laird carried her to the bed and curled around her, spooning her bottom against his groin and hugging her tightly against him. Scarlett wiggled even closer, finding the contentment that had been missing all week, the peace of mind that even yoga had denied her.

  “Did ye no’ miss me, mo chroí? Even a wee bit?”

  Miss him? How inadequate, really. She hadn’t missed him. She’d agonized over his absence, worried for his safety, pined for his company. Longed for his body. Even his absence hadn’t managed to dull the emotion he roused in her. The power he had over her was unnerving. Stunning. How could she ever give this up?

  Scarlett shrugged, biting back the urge to tell him just that. “You knew where I was this whole time.”

  His chest trembled behind her. “How can ye torment me so? Tell me true, lass, did ye miss me a’tall?”

  “Did you miss me?” she countered softly.

  “I’ve ne’er felt so bereft in all my days than those when parted from ye.” His brogue was thick, heavy with feeling.

  Rhys might ask all the good questions, but Laird had all the right answers.

  “I may have missed you, just a little,” she conceded and was rewarded with a light swat on her bare behind for her efforts. She turned in his arms so that she could face him, reaching up to caress his cheek. Taking note of the few additional gray hairs that joined his shaggy beard. The sight of him brought such joy to her heart. She’d never be able to adequately describe it much less confess it. She only knew she didn’t want him to leave her alone again.

  Relaxing in his encompassing embrace, she absently stroked his hands and arms as he held her tightly. Content with the steady beat of his heart thumping comfortingly against her cheek. Having not slept well in days, she snuggled closer and drifted into the hazy netherworld feeling at peace at last.

  Finally it occurred to her that Laird might have been right. She was right where she belonged. In that moment, everything was perfect and Scarlett was content.

  “Are you still angry with me?”

  His silvery eyes danced over her face. He must have been consoled by whatever he saw there because a tender smile lifted the corner of his lips before he brushed a lingering kiss across hers.

  “Nay, lass. I was ne’er angry. Only in denial, doubting what I prayed couldnae be true. But I couldnae go another day wi’out seeing yer bonny face.”

  Scarlett nodded, biting her lip worriedly. “Do you still doubt me?”

  “Ah, mo chroí, I only wish I could.” He held her in silence for a long while. “Lord Lindsay has advised the King to withdraw. I, too, extended my opinion that we should do so.”

  “Supporting the enemy of the Hepburn clan?”

  “Supporting the man in the right,” he corrected.

  “Then it’s over?” She pounced on that tidbit.

  “Nay, lass.” Laird tweaked her earlobe. “He wouldnae listen.”

  “But did you tell him all of it?” she persisted.

  “I tried. I swear,” he said. “The King wouldnae see reason perhaps because there was none to be had. He thought me mad as I thought ye. And before ye say it, all yer proof would mean nothing to him. He wants this war. Naught will change his mind on that.”

  Taking his hand in hers, Scarlett looked up at him beseechingly. “Then let’s leave this place. Let’s get your brothers, even your father and go back to Dunskirk or even Crichton.”

  Laird shook his head. “Nay, lass. I willnae turn tail.”

  No, of course he wouldn’t. Even knowing certain death awaited him, Laird would still want to be first over the wall, so to speak. She was going to lose him either way.

  “So you’ll just leave me here?”

  He bent his cheek to hers. “Nay, lass, I’ll no’ leave ye again. I cannae. The Hepburn motto is Keep Trust, Keep Faith. Have the same in me. I will make it through this is one piece.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  “Then I’ll still ne’er leave ye. No’ really.”

  38

  “Omnipotens Deus: ut in nobis et imperio istis beneficiis inceptum. Fac eos uictoria et pace.”

  “Amen,” Laird murmured beside her, his head bowed reverantly as the priest blessed them. Or at least, Scarlett hoped that’s what the elaborately robed man was doing. Lord knew, they needed every bit of help they could get.

  “Amen,” she echoed.

  Scarlett wasn’t the religious sort at all but when King James called his nobles to attend mass with him that night at the chapel of Ford Castle, she knelt beside Laird with her hands wrapped around his. Praying harder than she had ever imagined herself capable. Praying for his safety and for his family’s.

  Praying for something, anything to change what was about to happen.

  The priest lifted his arms heavenward. “Hoc petimus in nomine Domini Dei nostri, et Pater noster, qui vivit et regnat in unitáte Spíritus Sancti.” He signed a large cross in the air before him. “Benedìcat vos omnipotens Deus, in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.”

  “Amen,” they all said again and stood, waiting as King James left the pew at the front of the chapel and exited down the aisle. Scarlett wrestled with the urge to latch on to him as he passed.

  Laird’s hand holding tightly on to hers might have been all that was between her and the moment where she prostrated herself before the monarch and begged him not to be such a huge idiot. Pride had no place in a situation like this.

  Other lords and nobles filed out behind him. Some faces Scarlett recognized and then finally the Hepburns, all of them. Names on a long list. Sir Adam of Craggis, the Abbott of Arbath, the Earl of Glencairn, the young Earl of Bothwell who would leave behind his wife and new son, and the Bishop of Brechin who would leave behind those two mistresses and a dozen fatherless children.

  Scotland would be filled with orphans and widows by this time tomorrow and there was nothing she could do to change it now. No matter how much she wanted to. No matter how hard she prayed. It was futile.

  Unlike the others, Laird knew exactly what he was getting himself into. She had read the brochure to him in its entirety since he’d labored through the unfamiliar print. She, too, knew more than she had before. Mo
re than she wanted or needed to know.

  Still, he would fight.

  Rhys caught her eye as he passed. Scarlett hoped it wouldn’t be the last time she saw that roguish wink. Then all the younger Hepburn sons. Patrick limping by with Aleizia on his arm.

  Scarlett followed them out at Laird’s gentle prodding.

  “I hope yer happy wi’ yerself,” a deep voice hissed in her ear and she looked up into Sir William’s glowering face. She had been so wrong. He looked nothing like Laird who might scowl for all he was worth but never conveyed a quarter of the malice this man managed so easily. “Ye’ve bewitched my son and ruined his life. He will hae nothing now.”

  “Didn’t you do that yourself when you denied him his birthright?” she asked and his eyes widened in surprise. But not confusion. “Wow, it’s true, isn’t it? How could you do that to him?”

  “Sometimes connection and power are more important than what the heart wants,” Sir William said through clenched teeth. “My son has forgotten that for the moment but he will remember soon enough.”

  Scarlett shook her head. No, if history had its way, he wouldn’t. But even if he survived, Laird wasn’t like his father.

  “Scarlett, come,” Laird said softly, not bothering to meet his father’s eyes. “I disnae matter any longer.”

  No, it probably didn’t. Not anymore.

  Making her heartfelt goodbyes to Rhys and Patrick, and promising to see Aleizia the next morning, Scarlett fell in at Laird’s side for the long walk back to the tent.

  Stars stood out like beacons against the dark night sky. Scarlett had never seen so many, so clearly. She felt like she and Laird were utterly alone together in the cosmos. Wrapped in the length of plaid he had given her weeks before. It was like being wrapped up in him.

  It was a flawless moment there with his arm around her shoulders as they walked through the night, his hard body so solid and alive next to hers, his lips grazing her temple.

  She would never forget it.

  “Will ye go back, do ye think?” he asked quietly. “When it’s over?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Maybe.” If she could find Donell and figure out if this whole trip was meant for anything more than the destruction of her heart.

  “I would miss ye if ye were to go.”

  Would he even be around to miss her? Perhaps. Knowing what he knew now, conceivably he would be more careful and find his way to safety.

  “I would miss you, too.” A tight ache built in her chest. Oh, God, she’d miss him for the rest of her life either way.

  “Mayhap ye could stay.”

  “I’m not sure I have a choice either way.”

  “Ye could stay. Be my wife,” he whispered, his lips close to her ear.

  Scarlett bit her lip, feeling tears burning at her eyes and thickening in her throat. “My greatest fear is that you would always regret it.”

  “My greatest hope is that you would no’.”

  The tears fell then, splashing on her cheeks. Scarlett dashed them away quickly with the back of her hand, wishing she could banish the ache in her heart as easily. Drawing in a deep breath, she tossed her head. “I told you I’m no good at relationships,” she said briskly. “I couldn’t give you what you’re looking for.”

  It was true, she told herself insistently. What he would demand from her was too consuming. She would lose herself too easily.

  The thought frightened her.

  Almost as much as losing him.

  “I would ne’er ask ye to be anything other than what ye are. And my darling lass, yer exactly what I’m looking for.”

  Laird pulled her to a halt in front of their tent, tilting back her head so that she would be forced to look into his eyes but she closed hers, not wanting him to see the tears still shining there. His thumb brushed at the corner of her eye, catching a tear. “Ah, mo chroí, I’ve ne’er met a lass so stubborn as ye. Ye’ll admit to nothing, will ye? What hurt ye so that ye must guard yer every feeling?” His soft lips kissed at the corner of her eye and then the other, tasting her tears. “Look at me, Scarlett lass. I’ve kent all along that ye were hiding something from me. But dinnae hide from this. Do ye no’ ken what mo chroí means?”

  “I told you I don’t speak Gaelic,” she said, sniffing softly.

  “It means ‘my heart’. Ye hold it in yer hands already.” His brogue was deep, thick with emotion. “Is breá liom tú, mo Scarlett. Bhfuil tú m’aman. Is mise, agus beidh go lá. I love ye, my Scarlett. Ye possess my soul. ‘Tis yers and fore’er will be.”

  He possessed her lips in a tender kiss, his massive arms binding her around the waist and lifting her against his chest. He didn’t give her time for words but Scarlett wasn’t sure what she would have said in any case. She was too overwhelmed by his confession and those heart touching words.

  Pushing her into the tent, Laird worked the laces on her blue dress until he freed her from her clothing and lifted her in his arms. Laying her back on the mattress, he undressed quickly and stretched out next to her. Scarlett savored the feeling of his solid mass pressed against her, memorizing every muscle, every plane. The sensation of his skin against hers. His hair teasing her sensitive flesh, his calloused palm stroking her hip. Longing washed over her, not just for the passion he could wring from her body but for the yearning he could squeeze from her heart.

  She didn’t want this to end. Ever.

  He kissed her again with painstaking tenderness, his lips grazing across her cheek, jaw, nose and forehead as if he were trying to memorize her every feature. His fingers followed, glided lightly behind. Then leading the way, down her neck, shoulders and belly. Then his lips, so gentle, as he worshiped every inch of her. Desire fluttered deliciously in her belly but that wasn’t all the feeling he roused in her.

  Finally he rose above her, his elbows propped on either side of her head so that he might look down at her. Laird held her gaze firmly as he slowly entered her until they were fully joined. Her body absorbed him, memorizing the sensation of his possession, the hard thighs between hers, the rippled abdomen pressed against hers. His shoulders, massive and wide beneath her hands. His bristled jaw, shaggy hair. His eyes, molten pewter, churning with feeling. “Chomhlánú tú dom, mo ghrá. A dhéanamh tú go hiomlán mé. Beidh mé grá duit that am féin. I gcónaí. Ye complete me, my love. Ye make me whole. I will love ye across time itself. Always.”

  Again he didn’t give her a chance to speak, but took her lips as he began to move inside of her. Deliberately, as if the pace itself could stop time in its track. Aching, devastating emotions such as Scarlett had never known, gripped her chest like a vise. Even as pleasure cascaded over her, it scored her soul. Sobs built up inside of her and she buried her face in his neck as the tears began to stream down her cheeks but his lips were there once more, taking the tears away. Murmuring again words that branded her heart. “Tá tú mianach, mo chroí. Always mine.”

  Yes, she was. Losing him would be even more heartbreaking because of it.

  Her body bowed beneath him as her release came with bitter sweetness. She cried out in exaltation. In anguish. For what she had found and what she was to lose. Laird’s chest rumbled as he moaned throatily against her lips. He collapsed on top of her, nearly crushing her beneath his massive body but Scarlett didn’t care, wrapping all of her limbs around him and holding him tightly.

  Yes, she was his.

  But he would always be hers as well.

  39

  “Don’t go,” she whispered into the darkness just before dawn, compelled to try one last time to keep him safe. Scarlett had lain awake all night holding Laird in her arms even as he held her. Savoring, memorizing and cherishing every moment with him, knowing… fearing that they might be her last.

  “Ye should sleep,” he said, buckling on his armor and chainmail. He wore thick leather padding beneath them today but Scarlett knew deep inside it wouldn’t be enough.

  “I can’t. Stay, Laird. Please. For me,” she begged
, scrambling to her knees to wrap her arms around his shoulders as he sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots.

  “We’ve been through this. I hae nae choice, mo chroí. I maun fight.”

  “But you know what’s going to happen. You can’t do this, Laird. It’s suicide.”

  Laird only shook his head. “I’m uninterested in hearing more of yer protests on the matter, lass.”

  “And I’m uninterested in a life without you,” Scarlett retorted and realized in the space of a heartbeat that it was true. “I don’t want to stay here without you if you die. When you die. I don’t want to go back to a hateful world filled with hateful people either. To go back to where there is no real life for me.”

  “Hae ye nae one… there?” He added that last word hesitantly as if he could not give it any other name.

  “Other than my parents, I have one older brother who wants nothing to do with any of us. A slew of stepfathers and stepmothers, if you can call a woman not much older than you that,” she said. “I don’t want to go back to that. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

  “Then stay here wi’ me.”

  “Will I be with you, though?” she asked. “If you die…”

  “Och, enough now, lass. I cannae be a coward and hide myself away. I maun fight wi’ my clansmen and watch over my brothers.”

  Of course, he would. He was a brave man. A caring one.

  Scarlett lifted a hand and raked her fingernails lightly through his whiskers and then curled her fingers into the shaggy, mahogany locks at the nape of his neck. Pressing her body flush against him, she tugged his head down until she could reach his lips. She brushed her lips across his, running her tongue over his luscious lower lip before drawing on it and gnawing gently. He threaded his fingers through the short hair at her nape and pulled her head back to kiss her more fully.