Seduction Of A Highland Warrior

by Welfonder Sue-Ellen

  “How many are there?” He was looking at her, not the outcrop and its rowan.

  “More than anyone can say.” Marjory could hardly speak anyway. Alasdair’s tantalizing male scent, combined with the heady smell of rain and fresh, cold air, was getting to her. The look in his eyes unsettled her even more. He still appeared tense, but in a different way from during the ride from the clearing.

  Truth was, his expression excited her.

  Something shifted when she mentioned the caves. His gaze was fierce now, his entire focus on her. As if the wind and rain, his men, the caves, nothing else existed except the two of them.

  And that could mean only one thing. The old gods had heard her. Nought was giving her the chance she needed.

  “Your people don’t know how many caves are up there?” Alasdair was looking at the cliffs now. But he’d put his hand on the small of her back, his fingers splayed, the touch possessive. Bold and claiming, and doing the sweetest things to the lowest part of her belly.

  Marjory swallowed. “Nought is mysterious, see you?” She glanced at him, finding him looking right at her again, his gaze so intent, her breath caught. “The caves have been counted many times and always a different number is given. Most are small with room enough for one or two men to comfortably spend a night of guard duty.

  “One”—her pulse quickened when he curled his fingers around her hip, his thumb rubbing slow circles as she spoke—“is larger than the rest. It’s the highest cave ever found and is mostly used for storage. Provender is kept there, also dry plaids and piles of wolf and bear skins for bedding. Kendrew sends someone there every fortnight to make sure the cave is clean, the floors well swept. He—”

  “He shall receive my thanks—someday!” Alasdair leaned close and lowered his voice. “We shall seek shelter there now, my lady. We have unfinished business to attend. Something that’s been a long time in coming and that”—he straightened—“can wait no longer.”

  Marjory’s heart leaped.

  But he couldn’t mean what she thought.

  “There is room enough for us all in the large cave.” She glanced at the cliffs, not wanting to see his face if she was wrong. “The path winds back and forth up to the caves. High rock walls hide the ascent and overhanging ledges block the wind and rain. It’s an easy climb, even Geordie can make it. Or someone can carry him—”

  “My dog and my men will use the lower caves.” Alasdair gripped her chin, turning her face so she had to look at him. “You and I will go up to the high one.”

  For a moment, Marjory couldn’t speak. Her mouth went dry and her heart knocked against her ribs. Her hopes and desires came winging back to her.

  “And your men?” She glanced at them, not surprised to see that most of them were busying themselves with something. A few fussed with their plaids. Two were refastening the oilcloth on Geordie’s cart. And another appeared to be removing a pebble from his shoe.

  She looked again at Alasdair, her knees already weakening. “There are so many of them. Will they not—”

  “They are well trained.” He aimed a dark look at Ewan who was leaning against the herring cart, watching them with amusement. “Even those who aren’t will no’ speak of this night. They are loyal.”

  “And you?” She had to know.

  He pulled her closer, his gaze locking on hers. “That I am, aye. I’m also a man. And you, sweet”—he skimmed his thumb over her lips—“are about to find out why I warned you in the wood.”

  “Why you warned me?” She blinked, not remembering.

  It was impossible to think with him so near.

  He stepped back and extended his arm. The look on his face showed that he wasn’t asking her to take it. He expected her to, without question. When she did, his smile flashed.

  “I said you’d regret coming to the clearing.” He was already leading her toward the outcrop with the rowan, the start of the path to the Thunder Caves. “You’re about to find out why.”

  “Then I am most curious.” Marjory bit her lip, quickening her steps to keep pace with him. She already knew what he meant.

  He thought to seduce her.

  She bit her lip harder, stifling the smile she didn’t want him to see.

  It finally was a night for seduction, hers and his.

  She couldn’t have planned it better.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It’s like the world drops away here, isn’t it?”

  Marjory paused on the cliff’s zigzagging path. Pride beat through her, but also a bit of trepidation. Never had a man sought to seduce her and her last attempt to entice Alasdair had ended in disaster. So she kept her back straight and turned to peer through a hand-chiseled spy hole in the soaring rock wall that kept the cave path from being too treacherous to climb. She breathed deep of the cold air racing past the opening and then glanced at Alasdair. He stood a few steps behind her on the narrow, tunnel-like track.

  “Look, you can see straight down to the burn where we left the horses.” She spoke as brightly as she could, not wanting him to guess how vulnerable she felt.

  Or how embarrassed she’d be if she’d read him wrongly.

  He had changed since she’d mentioned the Thunder Caves.

  She just hoped she hadn’t erred in her assessment of his tenseness, his taut expression. And—she felt almost light-headed with excitement—the way he kept touching her, standing near or even pulling her close against his big, strong body.

  He was looking at her fiercely now. He’d stopped in the middle of the rocky path, his intent gaze holding hers as she watched him.

  Faith, his eyes burned so hotly, she wouldn’t be surprised if the clothes melted from her.

  “I ken where we left the horses.” He didn’t move, but the wind brought a hint of his tantalizing male scent and she felt a sudden tingling between her thighs, an ache she knew was pure feminine desire. “They’ll be fine. I dinnae need to peer down at the beasties.”

  Marjory scarce heard him. The blood was roaring in her ears, her mind whirling. Now that the seduction, if it indeed happened, was so near, she didn’t know what to do to initiate the proceedings.

  Something told her Alasdair would take charge.

  It was a thought that both thrilled and terrified her.

  She needed these last few moments to build her courage. So she gripped the edge of the spy hole, glad for the stone’s support.

  She stepped closer to the opening, pretending to admire the view.

  “Come see.” She didn’t look at Alasdair this time. “If you lean out a bit, the whole of the Thunder Vale opens up before you.” She waited for him to join her, her belly fluttering when he slid his arm around her, pulling her tight against him. She took a breath, her excitement mounting. “On fair days, we can see clear to—”

  “Sweet lass, all I wish to see is here beside me.” He smoothed back her hair, letting his fingers drift down the side of her neck. “Though I’ll own there remains much I wish to discover.”

  His voice was deep and low, so husky that a cascade of sinuous heat slid through her.

  He dipped his head, nuzzling the sensitive flesh beneath her ear. Marjory inhaled sharply, the rocky path seeming to tilt under her feet.

  “Aye, there is much I wish you to show me.” He flicked his tongue across her skin, dropped kisses along her shoulder. Straightening, he brushed the backs of his fingers down her cheek, his mouth curving in a slow smile. “Beautiful, enticing treasures to be savored and cherished.”

  She swallowed hard, not wanting to speak until she was sure her voice would be steady.

  The way he was looking at her made her feel as if she’d caught a fever.

  “The Thunder Caves are a treasure.” She took his hand and led him away, around the last bend of the path to where a solid wall of granite appeared to end the track. “Tucked around here is the entrance.” She pulled him past a tall, jutting edge of rock, beaming at his astonishment. “Now you see why we are so proud—”

 
; “Your caves aren’t what I meant.” But still, he stopped and stared.

  Marjory was sure his jaw would’ve slipped if he weren’t so stubborn.

  The Thunder Caves were awe-inspiring.

  Pride of Clan Mackintosh, the largest and loftiest of the caves was a broad, high-ceilinged wonder of glistening stone kissed by the ever-present roar of wind. Better yet, even on the darkest nights, slanting cracks in the domed roof allowed shafts of silvery moon-and starlight to fill the cave’s huge central chamber. The angle of the crevices kept out the worst of any rain.

  Marjory stepped closer to Alasdair, touching his arm. “My grandmother used to say the moonbeams are trapped fairies, pursued by princes of star shine. My grandfather would then laugh and claim…” She stopped, pressing a hand to her lips as hot color flooded her cheeks.

  “Aye?” Alasdair looked at her, one brow lifted. “What did he say?”

  “That…” She glanced away, looking quickly into the cave’s silver-shot depths. “Ach, well, you’ll see for yourself soon enough. He liked to tease that the gods called down the moon-and starlight to distract clan women so we wouldn’t see the cave’s true purpose.”

  “And what is that?” Alasdair crossed his arms, his lips twitching. “Did your ancestors sacrifice virgins here?”

  Marjory’s flush deepened. “Not exactly, but…”

  She took his elbow, pulling him to the far side of the cave’s entrance where a low, naturally formed bench ran the length of one wall. She stopped before an ironbound chest covered with a sheepskin. Opening its lid, she retrieved candles, steel, and flint. She handed them to Alasdair, smiling apologetically.

  “I’m not good at lighting fires. But if you can get these candles to burn, there are brackets in the walls.”

  “Now you are the teasing one,” he countered, quickly doing as she bid. “Or did you truly no’ guess why I went so quiet on the ride from the clearing? You are well-skilled at lighting fires, a true seductress. You make me burn, lass. You have aye—”

  His jaw dropped. His hand stilling as he set the first candle in its iron holder and the flame illuminated the cave wall.

  The gleaming stone was carved with ancient runic symbols. Norse runes, by the looks of them. More notable were the bold drawings etched near the cave’s sloping roof. Naked men and women cavorted everywhere, forming a lascivious circle of men and women coupling in a great variety of positions. The carnal scenes were painted red and black, each carving stark, vivid, and shocking.

  Alasdair’s brows rose. Then he started laughing. “So that’s what your grandfather meant. I vow he was right!”

  “I have always believed so. He never said.” Marjory’s face flamed hotter. “I do know Kendrew refuses to allow watchmen to use this cave. He says the drawings would keep them from their duty.”

  “Spying on MacDonalds?” Alasdair sounded more amused than concerned.

  Before she could answer, he crossed the cave to slip a lit candle into another of the wall brackets. The flickering light drew attention to his sure, confident stride, his powerful build. His rich auburn hair gleamed, the ends just brushing his broad, plaid-draped shoulders. He wore his sword belt slung low on his hips, the amber pommel stone bright in the cave’s dimness. Marjory waited as he lit and placed other candles, awareness of him and how alone they were, prickling her skin. Rarely had he looked more striking. And never before had his actions been so bold, his every word and glance making her hot inside, letting her believe…

  Could he indeed care for her?

  She straightened, clasping her hands before her. She didn’t want him to see that her breath had grown ragged, her pulse racing with hope.

  “Our men have aye kept watch for MacDonalds.” It was all she could think to say.

  “And your women?” His voice deepened, spooling through her like heady wine. “What do they think of Blackshore men?”

  “They’ve reviled them, for centuries.”

  “And you?”

  “I…” She couldn’t speak. He was coming toward her, the intense look on his face making the secret place between her thighs tingle again. Her palms were dampening and her breasts felt heavy, achy.

  “So you cannae tell me?” He stopped before her, lifted a length of her hair, fingering the strands. “A pity that, for I’m of a mind to hear what you think of me, Norn. I know your good-sister, Isobel, is attempting to throw us together.” His smile flashed. “She didn’t fall from Ewan’s horse. She slid off deliberately, claiming an injury so I’d ride off with you.”

  “She wouldn’t do that.” Marjory knew she had.

  “You’re no’ a good liar.” He dropped her hair, angling his head as he looked at her, his gaze searing. “There’ll be a reason she went to such trouble to trick me. I’d know what it is?”

  Marjory lifted her chin. “Is that why you were so angry on the journey? You believed we—”

  “So you knew she was pretending?”

  “I guessed.” Heat scored her cheeks on the admission. “She meant well. And she was clearly misguided in thinking—”

  “That I’d enjoy carrying you away, having you alone?” He let his fingertips glide over her cheek. “I’d say she was clever.”

  His words fired her blood, encouraging her. His nearness made her daring. “It could be she feels a match between us might work well for the weal of the glen.” That was as close as she’d go to revealing the pact she’d made with Isobel and Alasdair’s sister, Catriona. “After all, Isobel is now wed to Kendrew and Catriona married James, the Cameron chieftain. It could be she believes—”

  “She should know better.” His face hardened. “Kendrew is a scoundrel. He’s wild and crazed, totally unpredictable. He’s much too thrawn, the most stubborn man I know. Any match between you and me would end bloody.” He touched her again, caressing her cheek, fingering her hair. “Your brother and I would fight and one of us would die. Or he’d provoke me in other ways, calling down the King’s wrath o’er the broken truce. Blackshore would be seized, my people exiled to the Isle of Lewis.” He looked at her, his expression fierce. “Kendrew would greet such a tragedy. Indeed, I believe he plots one.”

  “And I am his sister.” Marjory held his gaze. “He does love me. I return that love with the whole of my heart.” She wouldn’t lie. “He has his faults, but we all do. He is a good man.”

  Alasdair’s jaw clenched and he looked aside, his gaze on a nearby pile of bear-and wolfskins.

  Marjory stood her ground. “You didn’t say why you were so wroth during our ride.” Her heart raced, her need for surety a throbbing ache in her chest. “Is my name the reason? Were you angered because I am your enemy’s sister?”

  “I wasn’t angry, leastways no’ with you.” He shoved a hand through his hair, whirled to face her. “Sweet lass”—he gripped her waist, his gaze sweeping over her—“I was furious at your godforsaken, wind-ridden home. Your precious Nought and its comfortless, stone-clogged bounds, so wild and barren—”

  “I don’t understand.” She didn’t. “You’re not making sense. Nought—”

  “Nought was thwarting me with every rocky mile we thundered across.”

  “The land?”

  “Aye, every stony inch of it.” He circled his arms around her, pulling her tight against him. “I was sure I’d once seen a shepherd’s hut near the birchwood, yet there was none. The farther we rode, no others appeared, only more rock and your damnable rapids.”

  “If you hadn’t ridden into the Thunder Vale, we’d have come to a shelter.” She could hardly speak. She was too aware of her disarray. Her damp and clinging gown, her hair tumbling loose, and—she took a breath—the wild desire beating inside her. She’d felt the hard slabs of his muscled chest and abdomen on their ride. She’d rested her head against the proud strength of his broad shoulders. Now she wanted to see and touch those wonders, run her hands over him.

  Enjoy his kisses again, lose herself in the sweetness…

  “I saw no other rest
ing place. For sure, I was looking!”

  “We have refuge now.” She glanced at the mound of furs, half wondering if the gods of seduction caused the cave’s shafts of moon-and starlight to spill across them.

  Almost, she could believe it.

  She was also melting. Pure, feminine need gathered inside her, chasing all thought except the irresistible urge to lean even closer against Alasdair. His arms were already like iron bands around her, holding her tightly against him. She could feel the solid strength of his chest, the heat of his powerfully muscled body, and—sweet, purple heather—she was acutely aware of the hard, thick length of his arousal pressing against her belly.

  There could be no mistaking his desire.

  And she wanted him badly, consequences be damned.

  She moistened her lips, knowing something momentous would happen as soon as she took her gaze from the pile of bear-and wolfskins.

  “Were you concerned I’d catch a fever from the storm?” She kept her attention on the furs, so near, so beckoning. “Is that why you sought a shelter?”

  “You know why.” He gripped her face with both hands, holding her fast as he kissed her roughly, his mouth plundering hers.

  She clung to him, thrusting her fingers into his hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue gliding against hers in long, sinuous sweeps. She trembled, her entire body aflame, the most delicious heat spreading through her. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples tight and aching. And still he kissed her, each bold swirl of his tongue against hers sending sweet molten fire rippling across her most intimate place. Her need, all her female desires exalted, reveling in the delicious tingles, the exquisite throbbing, so urgent and intense.

  “Now do you see? How it is with me?” Alasdair broke the kiss, jerking away from her. He cupped her chin, staring down at her. “What you do to me? What you’ve aye done to me?”