Highland Burn

by Victoria Zak

  What if Abigale threw his arse out or worst threw something at him? What if she wouldn’t listen to him as he poured his heart out? Better yet, mayhap she would forgive him and he could spend the rest of his days making his wife scream his name. Nay, that was as farfetched an idea as to say brownies secretly lived in the castle, using their magic to clean. Now wouldn't Alice like a few of those creatures scouring about?

  James was procrastinating. He scrubbed a hand down his face. “God’s blood.” Wasn’t he a warrior who had planned out numerous strategic battle tactics, commanded many men to victory, and fought back to reclaim his lands? Instead here he stood scared to death, trembling like a wee child. Like the wee child he’d been the day when he was forced to leave his father and his whole world was forever changed. James’s chest tightened and he clenched his jaw.

  Enough time had been wasted, he was going into that bedchamber, right words or not.

  Softly, James tapped on the door, only to be welcomed with silence. Without a doubt, she was in there; a soft sigh and the rustle of blankets gave her away.

  James opened the door, but didn’t cross the threshold. In front of him on his large billowing bed, nestled underneath the sheets, Abigale lay. A black silk canopy lined with red Celtic knotwork hung over the bed and was parted on either side. The hearth warmed the room and cast an orange glow, dimly illuminating the dark room. As he entered the chamber a tang smell assaulted his senses. Sage. Aye, Alice was up to her cleansing rituals. He inwardly laughed at the thought of Alice smudging the room of evil spirits as he freely walked toward Abigale. How ironic.

  Standing by the foot of the bed, James’s heart pounded against his ribcage when he saw Abigale lying on her side. Linen sheets molded to her body revealing her supple curves, auburn curls splayed over her shoulder, and her breasts were barely hidden under her night dress, giving him a flawless view. His cock hardened reminding him just how much he wanted to be buried deep inside her. Her beauty had always had this effect on him, arousing him until he went daft.

  Reaching out, James touched her foot and began to recall his well thought out apology. He cleared his throat and swallowed down the bile that began to rise up from his stomach. “Abigale, I---“

  Abigale turned over onto her back and pinned him with a cold emotionless gaze, yet her eyes shone sorrowfully. Every word and phrase escaped him, leaving him speechless, every well thought out scenario went black, and every bit of bravery left him. Expressing himself seemed pointless now when it was obvious she still hated him.

  There were no tears, nor an angered crinkle across her forehead. At the very least, he’d expected that reaction. A coldness he’d never seen in her before left him chilled to the marrow. And knowing he did this to her left him full of regret.

  James squeezed her foot tenderly as if his touch could bring her some kind of comfort. Abigale drew her foot away from him and rolled over, turning her back on him, completely shutting him out.

  As James was making his way to the head of the bed, two big trunks came into view, causing him to halt suddenly. His heart clenched and deep inside his dragon moaned in sorrow. Abigale had packed for Bothwell. She planned on leaving him, he realized. As if he gave no credence to the wooden chest, he looked at them and then back to Abigale. With this in mind, he understood she was already gone and he was too late.

  The room filled with silence except for the hard rain that pelted the window. James walked toward Abigale with only her back to view. Bending down, he took an auburn curl in his hand. He stroked the curl with his thumb. “I've already lost ye, lass, haven’t I?” A burning sensation behind his whiskey-colored eyes stung as tears began to collect. He let go of the curl and watched it fall upon her pillow. Abigale didn't move, nor mutter a sound when he touched her. It was time for him to go but he couldn’t move, for the fear that leaving her meant he would never see his bel ange again.

  James stood and reached inside the pocket of his jerkin, pulling out the wooden sculpture he’d made by the loch. Giving it one last look, he placed it on the nightstand by the bed. One last glance at Abigale and then he left the bedchamber.

  Once outside the room, James strode away from her and his whole world came crashing down on him. Every word he wanted to say now echoed down his empty corridor mocking him for a bloody coward. Every step he took reminded him that she was moving on, confirming all along he’d been right. He didn’t want a wife, but needed Abigale more than he needed the air he breathed.

  ~~~~~

  The force of the door shutting sent a shiver down Abigale’s spine and caused her body to jerk. There were no tears left to shed, there were no emotions left to feel. Alice had informed her this morn that two days had passed, but for the life of her she couldn’t recall where they had gone. Time had stood still as one day molded into another.

  After the emotional numbness wore off from Fergus’s death, she came to her senses and blamed herself for his death. James did the honorable thing by putting Fergus out of his misery. She should have never rode him that hard through the glen. It was her fault, but she had had to escape those eyes.

  Being that she had some time, Abigale needed to sort through her thoughts. Countless times, she’d questioned her feelings and why she stayed where she wasn’t wanted. Had she been so absorbed by to her own dreams and fantasy of having a family that she refused to accept reality? The reality of a man who didn’t want her. Why was she holding on white knuckled to a man who was uncontainable? The idea that she could keep a man like James within her bounds was absurd.

  If she listened to good reason she would go to Bothwell and begin a new life. After all she still had her freedom. On the contrary if she listened to her heart it would most definitely deceive her.

  James was an honorable man, her inner conscience teased her relentlessly. Not once did he take advantage of her. In fact he’d saved her from a night of humiliation and a tarnished reputation. He was dedicated to her father; by marrying her he’d given up his days on the battlefield even though he had no desire to fulfill the king’s orders. Through his blunt and abrasive nature he showed her that he cared for her the only way he knew how, she supposed. Surely, anyone who had to deal with a dragon inside of them had their own burdens to bear.

  Then as if the clouds had lifted and the sun sprang to life, it dawned on her. The whole entire time, he was protecting her from himself. A dragon. Quickly Abigale sat up in bed. James was a dragon. The more she said it, the more she believed it. Her stomach flopped like a fish trying to swim upstream. She was in love with a dragon.

  Nonsense, she scolded. Abigale threw the cover aside and leapt out of bed. Her heart indeed held true to its devious ways.

  She paced the small space in front of her window as rain pelted against its glass. James was here, why didn’t he say something? she mused. Abigale Bruce, ye didn’t give him much of a chance. Her inner muses were out in full force. She shook her head. “I’m going to Bothwell and far away from… him.” Saying it out loud stung a little deeper than she’d expected. ”Besides," she folded her arms across her chest, “I won’t have to pack.” Her trunks had just arrived a few days ago from Castle Douglas and there they sat, unpacked and stacked neatly in the corner.

  Abigale quit pacing when she noticed from across the room something standing on her nightstand that wasn’t there before. Odd, she normally kept a candle and snuffer and occasionally a book on the table, nothing more. Crossing the room, she walked toward the foreign object. When she got closer, a wooden statuette of a horse stood tall and proud. Taking the figurine into her hands, she smoothed her fingers over the wood and creased its head. “It’s Fergus.” Bewildered and holding back a few tears, she inspected the steed inch by inch. Every detail whittled into the birch was a testament to Fergus’s perfection. Every strand of hair and muscle definition was masterly carved, even down to his hooves.

  “James,” she whispered.

  With the figurine in hand, Abigale raced to the door and down the corridor. She ha
d to find James. Auburn curls bounced with each step she took, bare feet padded on cold stone floors as she opened every bedchamber door in search of the man she loved. What a fool she’d been. He’d come to her and she had turned him away. Fool. Continuing her search, she raced down the stairs, through the great hall, and into the kitchen. But James was gone as if he’d vanished. He couldn’t be far; he was just in her chamber.

  Cold, damp air bit through her light linen night gown. Needless to say it didn’t stop her as she stepped back into the great hall. Only stopping to catch her breath, it dawned on her… the solar. He had to be in the solar.

  A soft glow of light filtered beneath the solar door. Abigale placed her hands on the cold wooden door, closed her eyes, and prayed he was in there. She gave the door a push and it opened without protest. The room was lit by the raging fire flickering in the hearth. No candles were lit which left the corners of the room dark and eerie. As she open the door further, she could see James sitting in a chair in front of the flames with his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands as if he was mourning the loss of a loved one. Her heart ached for him.

  To give them some privacy, Abigale shut the door behind her then sauntered over to the hearth. “Thank ye for my gift. ‘Tis beautiful.” Her voice shook a little on her last word.

  Startled, James’s head shot up. “Abigale?” He must have been in deep thought, for he'd not heard her enter the room.

  Avoiding eye contact, she looked at her trinket meekly. “I’m sorry for blaming ye for Fergus’s death. It was wrong of me and I hope ye can forgive me."

  “Aye, I forgive ye, but I dinnae blame ye for being upset with me. I should have told ye sooner what I was.”

  Abigale stood in front of the hearth just a few feet away from James, yet she could feel the heat from his gaze as if he was standing next to her. Her beautiful, wicked Highlander raked his whiskey-colored eyes over her body. The raging flames behind her shone through her night gown leaving nothing to his imagination. Her legs were long and lean, hips were flared, and breasts were begging for his touch.

  James cleared his throat. “So, I was wondering when ye plan on leaving for Bothwell?”

  What? Abigale was confused. She’d never mentioned to James about leaving for Bothwell. Granted the last time her leaving Black Stone was brought up, she told him she wasn't leaving. It wasn’t until recently she’d thought about changing her mind. Oh no. Abigale’s throat went dry. Could dragons read minds? Had James read her mind?

  “I saw that yer trunks were packed and… well…I—“

  “Nay.” Abigale let out a small chuckle. “My trunks arrived when I was taking care of ye and I hadn’t had a chance to unpack.” She paused. “Ye thought I was leaving?”

  “Aye.” James’s face seemed to relax a little.

  “Well, I would be lying if I said that the thought didnae cross my mind, but nay, James, I dinnae wish to leave.”

  Abigale could almost see James’s shoulders drop with relief knowing that she wasn’t leaving. “Good, because I wouldn’t be able to let ye go if I tried. So lass, why are ye here then?”

  The deepness of his voice smoothed over her body sending cold shivers over her skin. Knowing that he wanted her to stay gave her all the strength and courage she needed. With inches to spare between them, Abigale stopped in front of him and straightened her shoulders. “’Tis like I said before my Laird, I come to thank ye.” She arched a brow and smiled.

  “My lady, I must warn ye, when ye play with fire, ye get burned.” His eyes held a truth to them so she knew he meant every word he said.

  Abigale felt herself being pulled toward James until she straddled him. Large hands rested on her hips, and she felt the strength of his grip.

  Abigale traced her fingers along his face noticing the coarseness of stubble along his jaw, reminding her that he was pure raw male, while the scar under his right eye reminded her that he was a warrior wielding strength and power, and the softness of his lips reminded her of how soft his heart could be. He purred low and deep, relishing her caress, reminding her he was every bit dragon.

  Truly she loved this man with all her heart, even his rough edges and imperfections.

  “James, please forgive me for my actions and cruel words. I didnae mean them.”

  A hooded gaze stared back at her. This close she could see amber waves swirling in his eyes like poured whiskey. “There’s nothing to be forgiven.”

  “But--”

  “Shhh. Kiss me.” James took Abigale’s head in his hands and pulled her into a soft kiss. Needing more of her, he licked at her full lips and intensified the kiss. Her heart raced, sending molten lava through her veins. The fluttering in her stomach was back making her core throb. These new-found feelings were like nothing she had ever felt before, yet she wanted more. Craved more.

  A rough but gentle tug of her hair made Abigale’s lips break contact. Dominant enough to get Abigale’s attention, James held her firmly and gazed deeply into the blueness of her eyes. “Do ye love him?” A shadow of the menacing Black Douglas lingered across his face as he waited for her to answer.

  “Who?” Confusion crossed her face.

  James tightened his grip on her hair as the name passed over his lips. “Marcus.”

  Abigale brought her hands up and covered his, loosening his grip. She whispered over his lips, “I’m here with ye, James Douglas.” She took his bottom lip into her mouth and sucked before claiming his mouth.

  Strong arms circled her tiny body pulling her even closer. She slipped her hands over his broad shoulders and down his back until she reached the hem of his tunic then lifted it over his head, throwing it to the stone floor.

  Soft lips kissed down the tender part of her neck just below her ear leaving a blazing trail of heat behind. James yanked down her night gown. The coarseness of his massive hands tenderly squeezing her breasts drove her daft and just when she had thought the torture would stop, he traced small circles around her peaked nipples turning those fluttering butterflies into flames.

  Continuing his delicious assault on her breasts, he took a pink nipple in his mouth and sucked until Abigale moaned her pleasure. Wanting more, she threw her head back, giving him complete access to her body; it was his to command. She desired more of his wickedness as he kissed, licked, and sucked her peachy skin.

  Feeling an intensity billowing deep within her core, Abigale rocked her hips forward to relieve the ache. A soul-shaking feral growl rumbled through James and before Abigale could react her night dress was ripped clean off her body and lay in a torn heap on the floor. A rush of cold air pricked her skin which only strengthened the sensation. What was this man doing to her?

  James pulled her closer, and their hot bare skin touched, igniting a fire that set them ablaze. She wondered if he could feel how she burned for him, even though he still wore his kilt. As she rocked her hips, James hissed and grabbed her arse and rubbed her sex against his cock. Abigale threw her hands into his long black hair when he took her nipple into his mouth and nipped. A wave of heat spiraled through her body. Aye, Sister Kate was right… Highlanders were a wicked breed.

  “James,” Abigale moaned breathlessly, “what are ye doing to me?”

  “Och lass, do ye trust me?”

  She nodded. James slipped his hand between her legs and gently stroked her virginal nub. With hands that had mastered pleasuring a woman in every way, he gently slipped his finger deep inside of her, careful not to hurt her. Abigale sucked in a shaky breath.

  James looked up at her. “Did I hurt ye?”

  “Nay and don’t ye dare stop,” Abigale commanded.

  James was more than happy to oblige.

  James pulled his finger out only to plunge it in further and faster until Abigale felt her walls tightening. By all means, he was taking her down a path she’d never traveled, furthermore creating a carnal necessity that drove her further and faster to a destination that led her straight to bliss. As if he knew exactly what t
o do and the exact time to do it, he slipped in a second finger. Abigale sighed in pure pleasure, she held on tight, wrapping her arms around his neck. Surely if she let go she would crash and break into a million pieces.

  “Look at me, lass,” James whispered.

  Abigale shook her head no. Her insecurity had crept up on her. Never being with a man before she couldn’t help but feel inadequate when it came to pleasing him.

  A strong hand pulled the back of her neck, bringing her head down so their foreheads touched. “Look at me, my bel ange.”

  Abigale opened her eyes to the most breathtaking man she’d ever seen.

  A man of raw power.

  A man of honor.

  A man that was a dragon.

  A man that did wicked things to her body that she craved. She found a strength in his eyes that made the world fade away.

  “I want to see you shatter, lass,” James whispered against her lips.

  As if it was a command, a wave of warmth tingled through her body as Abigale’s walls came crashing down and she indeed shattered into a million delicious pieces. “By the saints,” she moaned and threw her arms around James’s neck as another wave of heat hit her.

  For a moment they held each other tightly as she caught her breath.

  “I’m not done with ye, lass,” James whispered in her ear.

  Abigale snaked her hands down his neck and grazed the thickness of his chest. “Just what do ye plan to do to me?” she teased.

  His eyes never leaving hers, he unbuckled his leather belt. Black fabric unfolded and fell to the side revealing his hardened length.

  Abigale watched every move he made. She was curious and wanted to explore every inch of his sinful body, yet her eyes grew wide when she saw what lay between them. At half-mast the tip of his length reached his navel. Abigale arched a questioning brow and looked at James who was quite amused by her astonished reaction.

  “Dinnae worry,” he smiled and reassured, “we'll take it slow.”