by Mary McCall
The fall loosened the ties holding the shoulder drape of Hope's plaid to the front of her waist, freeing one firm lobe. She rose upon her hands and knees, straddled his legs, and slithered up his body, making trilling noises that sounded like a feline mating call. Her unbound breast trailed up his back, rousing the nipple to a taut nub. Her fingers grazed his sides in teasing strokes. When her hips were over his waist, she lowered her bare loins, hugged him with her thighs, and fanned his ear with her hot breath.
"Looks like The MacFury captured The Roarin’ MacPherson.” Hope nipped his ear and growled. “She may decide to keep him and make him her mate."
Leonce didn't move.
She frowned. “Leonce?"
She pulled his long mane from his face. His eyes were closed and his skin relaxed. “Well, cursed bloody rot and zounds! I knocked him out."
She caressed his cheek. “Leonce?"
Sitting up, she shook his shoulders. “Oh, Leonce! I did not mean to hurt you. Open your eyes and be well for me. Please, Leonce!"
* * * *
Leonce let a low moan slide through his throat. At least the vixen had finally said please.
Hope got off his back and moved to his side. Well, damn! He didn't mean for her to move.
"Leonce, talk to me. Tell me where you're hurt.” She tugged at his shoulders, trying to roll him over.
She could damn well do it by herself, too, after all the minx had put him through. She was making this too easy. He could flip her on her back in a flash. Then again, it might be interesting to see how far she would go.
It was probably time for another groan, so he did.
"Zounds, Leonce! Why do you have to be so bloody big?"
Hope's pulling grew frantic. A tear hit his flesh. He would have to help her. A combination sigh-groan escaped him. With her next tug, he rolled onto his back and kept his eyes closed. This was an improvement. She was back astride him with her moist heat pressed against his waist. His loins roused.
Gentle hands cupped his face. “Leonce, please tell me what hurts."
Groaning for effect, he opened his eyes and stared at Hope with the best pained expression he could manage. God's teeth! She really was wearing nothing but a man's plaid and paint. He prayed she wouldn't hear the lust coming through in the groan that slipped from his lips as her unveiled nipple beckoned his mouth.
"Tell me where you're hurt, Leonce."
He tried to sound hoarse. “Lower."
"Where, Leonce? I cannot find anything.” She ran her hands over his chest and arms and felt under the waist of his plaid.
"'Tis lower."
"Could you be more specific?” She scooted down astride his thighs.
"'Tis under my plaid."
"Under your...” Hope looked up and narrowed her eyes.
"'Tis the most dire agony I have ever suffered from any feud."
Hope tossed aside his plaid and became solemn. “I see your problem, MacPherson. ‘Tis swollen and engorged."
He cocked a brow. “Will you relieve my suffering, MacFury?"
"Aye, but could be painful. Old Elda told me the best way to treat a limb this inflamed is to chop the cursed thing off.” She cast him an impish grin. “But you know what, MacPherson? I'm of a mind to keep this feud going and let you suffer for practically scaring me out of my wits."
Hope jumped to her feet and sprinted up the mountain path.
Melodious laughter came down the trail, taunting the lion, who let out a lusty growl, sprang to his feet, and pursued his mate. Ahead of him, Hope's golden tresses, now cut to a length just beneath her shoulders, whipped wildly behind her. Long, sleek legs hastened her flight. She embodied untamed grace and beauty as she glanced over her shoulder, tossed him a sexy come-and-get-me look, and then darted into the cave where they had spent the night on their way home from the MacDougalls.
Entering the darkened cave, Leonce heard a stalking, feline trill. He turned in time to catch Hope, who launched into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. Grabbing his head with both hands, she captured his mouth in a savage kiss. Just as he overcame his shock and sucked on her sweet-tasting tongue, she pulled back, bit his lip, and licked the spot. “What say you, MacPherson? Want to end this cursed feud now or suffer longer?"
Before he could answer, she sucked his lower lip in the place she'd nipped and dragged him back into another hot, wet mingling of mouths. He tightened his hold. Growling low in his throat, he plunged his tongue into her mouth and feasted on her heady nectar. When her breathing quickened, he broke the kiss. She issued that carnal little growl that drove him wild as she tried to reclaim her prize.
He held her back. “Mayhap The MacPherson is of a mind to let The MacFury suffer and not end this feud until he knows what provoked it."
Hope chuckled and tightened her legs around his waist. “The Roarin’ MacPherson broke his promise to take his mate while keeping her off her feet."
"Ah, so she baited her lion and lured him into her den to have her way with him. But the lion is king, and he'll master his mate.” Leonce grinned. “Mayhap he'll make her beg."
Leonce pawed one hand from her waist over her back and under her softly rounded bottom. Slipping his fingers into her tender folds, he massaged her sensitive flesh. Sapphire eyes shimmered with flames of desire. A strangled moan left her. Her head fell back, and she arched against him.
"You're hot and wet, MacFury, and yearning for a mating. You want to beg me?"
She pressed her feet against his buttocks. “Nay, MacPherson. ‘Tis you who will beg, because your loin is bloody well throbbing and aching for the mating too."
Damn! As she caressed the words “bloody well throbbing,” his release drew near. Removing his hand from her slick heat, he shifted her weight and hitched his plaid aside. Then he gripped her bottom and lowered her until his shaft nestled at her feminine passage. With a wicked leer, he kneaded her rump on both cheeks. A whimper caught in her throat, and she bit her lower lip. Her eyes, molten with craving, refused to plead.
"Have we an agreement, MacFury—the mating ends the feuding?"
"Aye, MacPherson.” Her lips curved into a lusty grin. “As long as you keep me off my feet."
Possessiveness claimed him. “Then ‘tis finished, Lady MacPherson."
Firming his grip, he imbedded himself inside her with one powerful lunge. Urgency enveloped them. Their joining erupted into a primitive mating of savage passions. She met his thrusts with raw need, trying to control their rhythm. He held her fast and exalted in his supremacy as she surrendered to his dominance. Her body convulsed around him, and her low moan of ecstasy filled the cave. He plunged deeply within her, effecting his own release.
The lion's conquering roar echoed through the hills.
Leonce gazed at Hope's enraptured expression as the currents flowing through her receded. At the moment of her climax, she let go and yelled, “Catch me, Leonce."
Now he held her waist, still filling her as she was suspended before him with eyes closed, head thrown back and arms flung wide.
Good God! She had given her whole self to him. Trusted him completely. He knew to the very moment when she had given him her love, but this was so much more. This was her spirit. This young woman, who had suffered so much and feared she could never trust, had put her absolute faith in him. He cherished this gift and reaffirmed his vow to keep her forever safe.
Hope released a satisfied purr, opened her eyes, and smiled. She tightened her legs and reached up, hugging him as he lifted her.
"I love you, Leonce,” she breathed in his ear and rubbed her cheek against his.
"You hold my heart, Angelaspera.” Hot tears wet his neck at the mention of her name. He held her close and savored the treasure of her.
After a lingering embrace, she leaned back in his arms and smirked. “This is the most fun I ever had playing a bait game, Lion."
"Is Bertie safe?"
"He should be at the keep. He and Melba were to take Fraser, MacDougall an
d Aonghus all the stock as soon as you followed Harry.” She peeked contritely at him through her lashes. “I didn't want to bring him, but he said he would come after me. I feared he would get lost or hurt."
"I have no pressing matters.” He raised an inquiring brow. “Have you any, Lady MacPherson?"
Hope shook her head, and her eyes widened as he hardened inside her.
"Then I think we should stay and play this bloody fun game all night."
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Chapter Thirty-Three
* * * *
Sunlight shimmered upon the currents of the lazy stream, and a lark's joyous song filled the air. Leonce opened his eyes to the new day and realized the sun would soon peak.
Gentle puffs of air warmed the crook of his neck. He glanced at his wife draped across his left side. Thank God, she was clean of war paint. Her golden tresses tickled his nose, and one hand would occasionally pet his chest. She released a purr and burrowed her nose into his neck. He knew she was sleeping and not teasing him as she had done the past night.
After coupling in the cave, he decided his blue, feuding wife needed a bath. On the way to the stream, they passed a huge crooked tree with a long, low-hanging branch. Hope turned excited eyes to his and said, “Bet you could keep me off my feet there, Lion.” So he did.
Later, she couldn't bathe away the paint for staring at him. He decided helping her would be bloody fun. When she took it upon herself to bathe him, he decided to take her for a ride upon the waves.
Hope finally smiled up at him and said all this exertion was making her hungry. They dined on bread and cheese she had stolen from the kitchen, along with berries and fresh honey she had gathered. He told her the wine would taste better from her mouth than from an old pigskin. She said she was thirsty too. Somehow, they ended up back on the banks of the river in dawn's mist for a long, tender sharing of hearts and bodies.
What was he going to do about her? She was totally wild. Nay, not wild. Hope lacked discipline. This wasn't a matter of taming. It was a matter of training her in things she should have learned growing up. Part of his wife was still a child in need of nurturing and guidance. But where to begin?
Her trusting him was a good start. He would never question her loyalty. She had proven her mastery over that virtue. Meekness certainly wasn't one of Hope's strong points. She could argue and fight like a raving maniac.
That was it! Diable. The horse wasn't tame by any means, but Leonce would never fear her safety around the beast. Having no one else for companionship, Hope had made him her friend through caring, praise, affection and sharing. The beast was meek and gentle with her, but they shared a bond and savage passion for life in the games they played.
It was a novel idea, but he would try it. He would make Hope his friend. Leonce grimaced. If word of this got out, he would be the laughingstock of the Highlands. His warriors already sniggered behind his back, because he actually loved his wife.
A tender caress and purr interrupted his thoughts. Leonce looked at his slumbering wife. Ah well, his warriors would have to get used to him having a new best friend. He closed his eyes. Hope needed more rest. Mayhap some cuddling would be in order later.
A blissful sigh drifted past his ear, and her weight shifted. A wispy kiss grazed his neck. “Morning, Leonce. Thanks for the game."
"Are you all right?"
"For bloody certain, I'm fine. I had a fierce lion guarding me all night.” She nipped his neck behind his ear.
"I thought we were over this, wife,” he said in a clipped voice.
"What has your temper flaring? I thought you had fun too.” She licked his ear and then blew on the spot.
"Hope, quit playing.” Leonce pulled her on top of him, tilted her chin up, and frowned. “Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?"
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you thinking about going raiding and leaving me again, MacPherson?"
"Answer me, Hope."
She laced her fingers together over the center of his chest and rested her chin upon them. An impish smile curved her lips. “The lioness may be a wee bit tender, having been so powerfully mounted by her mate all night, but she enjoyed his pulsating pillaging; he made her feel hot and tight. Seeing as he is her king, if he is of a mind, she'd have him plunder her a few more times."
Mirth rumbled in his chest at her silly rhyme. “You would suck me dry and make me a eunuch."
"Nay, for ‘twould spoil my game.” She licked his chin. “What think you, Lion—want to mate again and see if we can make us a cub?"
"Later. Right now the lion is thinking of cuddling his mate."
Hope frowned and ran a finger over his jaw. “'Twas a good game, but I'm worried about you. I expected you to be on guard and see me as you rode up the path. But you never did, and I knocked you from your mount."
"Do your chieftain a favor and don't tell, for ‘tis something The Roarin’ MacPherson would never live down. Where did you come from that you could hit me with such force?"
She chuckled and ruffled his hair. “And where else would you expect to find a heathen Highlander, but perched in a tree?"
Leonce caught her hands and put them back on his chest. “How did you manage that with your fear of heights?"
"Whatever gave you such a pitiful notion of me? Limb-swinging is one of my favorite games."
"Mayhap ‘twas the fact that if Harry hadn't knocked you out, you would still be clutching the branch of that tree where I first caught you.” He tapped her nose.
"Oh.” Hope rested her cheek on her entwined fingers and sighed. “I think I hurt so bad and felt so cursed cold and tired that my extra sense deserted me. That boar took me by surprise, and I was bloody scared. Then I looked down and saw The MacPherson standing there holding out his arms. All I could think was he is a man, so he will move aside, let me fall, and then laugh, or he will rape me and kill me."
"I'll always catch you, Hope."
"I know that now."
He threaded his fingers through her silken tresses as she relaxed against him. “What is your extra sense?"
"I can tell whenever I am, or somebody nearby is, being stalked."
"You jest?"
"Truly, Leonce. ‘Tis as if one of the Good Lord's angels taps me on my shoulder and says, ‘Be on guard, Hope.'” Her nose crinkled playfully. “Them angels sure have been busy. Our clansmen are cursed good."
"But obviously not good enough,” he replied dryly.
They rested quietly for a time. Nature's song, created by the stream's gentle currents, lapped against the rocks and mixed with the chorus of birds in the trees.
"Know what, Leonce?"
"Hum?"
"I'm not truly a heathen. I would bloody well die if I didn't have a kitchen to raid and a warm chamber to keep me from the cold.” She raised pleading eyes to his. “Mayhap I wasn't raised proper, and that is why I have trouble acting right."
He caressed her jaw. “Nay, love. You were not raised proper."
Hope resettled her cheek against his chest. “The few years afore Mama died, I spent all my time being sad and scared, because she acted like she didn't know me. After he killed her, I was so lonely and empty. ‘Twas like her dying snatched my soul. I was breathing, but I wasn't living."
Leonce tightened his embrace and stroked her back, offering what comfort he could. She had so many painful memories stored inside. And by Saint Ninian, the baron would suffer for every one of them.
"I was lying in my bed one night after he beat me, not caring if the pain killed me. ‘Tis the truth, my body didn't feel much. He came in with some man...I never saw his face because my back was so bad. The man touched me...inside. He told the baron that he would pay the price and take me away after the bruises were gone. I didn't like him doing that, because it hurt, and I didn't want him to take me."
The tic raged in Leonce's cheek.
"That is when my numbness went away, and I started feeling pain again. I knew I had to escape. But I hurt so bad I did n
ot think I could get away. Then the fire in my back turned into a burning rage at the baron for all he had done to Mama, and the pain didn't seem so cursed strong anymore. Life turned into a game after that. Mama had told me: ‘Angelaspera, if there is something you must do that you do not like, make it a game. Then after you do it, you have won. And you'll know ‘twas your skill and determination that got you through, and you may enjoy it.’ That is why I started playing. I could not stop, or the emptiness would come back.
"I enjoy games, Leonce, but ‘tis different now. You gave me back my soul. Since I am yours, my soul is safe like the rest of me. I am not empty anymore.” She rose upward and looked at him. “A chieftain's wife needs to have restraint. I don't wish to make you angry or embarrass you. I want to act better. Think you might be patient with me while I try?"
Leonce caressed her cheek. “When I first caught you, I thought you were the dream that kept me from going insane after that massacre. I knew in my heart you were coming. ‘Twas no dream, though. I know that now. After the ambush I opened my eyes and beheld a golden-haired angel with eyes so blue I wanted to dive into their depths. She was cloaked in my plaid, and the mouth of the cave surrounded her, appearing as a glistening halo of warmth and life. My angel touched my wound and said, ‘Be patient and wait for me, Lion. When I come, you will receive Justice from my hands.’”
Leonce cupped her face with his hands. “You have given me more than Justice, love. I'll always be patient with you. You are my angel full of hope, Angelaspera—my soul mate. You do need restraint, but I'll not see you broken. My temper can be terrible, but I'll never turn my rage on you. If you provoke me too far, I'll rebuke you, for ‘tis my duty as your husband and chieftain. I will help you in this if you let me.” He gave her a playful smile. “And mayhap sometimes we can slip away, cast aside all restraint, and play some of your bloody fun games together."
Hope nuzzled his neck. “I'm glad you caught me, Leonce."
"'Tis good you told me about the man who touched you. You are to forget him and never think of him again.” He stroked her back, delighting as her muscles rolled into his palm.
