A Time & Place for Every Laird

by Angeline Fortin

  “It means you’ve worn me down until I’m unwilling to fight with you anymore,” she allowed.

  Bending his head to nuzzle her neck, Hugh whispered, “Will ye ne’er admit defeat, lass?”

  “I will if and when I’m truly defeated.”

  Hugh laughed softly at that, his warm breath teasing at her hair. No, Claire thought again. Not defeated, only disappointed over his stubborn refusal to see what was from her point of view reasonable, but it wasn’t unexpected and maybe inwardly she was a little thrilled that he didn’t want to let her go any more than she wanted to be gotten rid of.

  “Let me take care of ye for a change, lass,” Hugh said, brushing his lips against her hair. “Gi’ me a chance tae find a way.”

  “I’ll give you a chance to kiss me,” Claire whispered in lieu of a promise she couldn’t keep. “I mean, it’s been at least a couple of hours.”

  “And that is too long?” he murmured as he nuzzled her neck, but she could hear the smile in his words.

  Claire rolled toward him, sliding her hand over his back and downward over his taut backside. “Way too long.”

  Diving his fingers into the tangle of her hair, Hugh tipped her head back and brought his lips down on hers gently. They brushed and tugged playfully while his tongue stroked across her teeth and the sensitive inside of her lip. The scruff of his whiskers grazing lightly against her tickled and teased, and Claire moaned softly, parting her lips and urging him to explore more deeply as she slipped her tongue against his.

  A husky groan echoed her impassioned sigh and Hugh rolled her back, coming over her without breaking the kiss. Lean hips pressed between her thighs as he descended, letting every inch of his body surge across hers, letting Claire feel the weight and power of his body and the strength of his arousal as he thrust against her. His hard length ground against her core and Claire gasped, sharing the breath of astonishment with Hugh before their lips met once more.

  Sweeping her hands down his back and buttocks, Claire lifted her legs high around his hips and urged Hugh even closer as their passion ignited and flared. Rough hands skimmed over her shoulder, pushing her bra strap down until her breast was freed. Breaking the kiss, Hugh dipped his head lower, capturing her nipple between his lips while his hand slipped beneath her to nimbly unclasp her bra. He dragged it away, and, freed from the garment, Claire’s eager hands resumed their exploration of the powerful body that had delivered such frustration over the past week and such fulfillment over the past days.

  Over the defined ridges of his stomach her hands slipped, and around once more to dip into the indentation of his spine and down under the band of his boxers, over his sculpted backside and around, slipping her hands between them to rake her fingernails up his abdomen, just grazing his rigid length. Hugh growled against her breast, hooking the side of her panties with his thumb and forcing them down even while Claire nudged off his boxers.

  Soon they were freed of barriers. Hugh tossed her panties aside and caught her ankle, running his palm roughly up her calf and thigh before delving into the warmth between them. Claire panted harshly when his fingers found her, teasing and circling without mercy as he suckled at her breast. Cradling his head to her, Claire arched helplessly against his hand as heat pooled and clenched low in her belly.

  Hugh had already proven he could deliver her into the arms of mind-numbing ecstasy in moments; indeed, it seemed as if he felt obligated to bring her to one soul-shattering release after another before finding his own pleasure. Even now her body was beginning to pulse as he drove her to the edge of rapture with the taunting thrust of his fingers, but Claire wanted more. She wanted to share that rapture with him, fall over that cliff together … one last time.

  Her fingers slid around his thick length, and Hugh hissed, drawing in a harsh breath that melted into an agonized groan as she stroked him, guiding him to her weeping center. Nipping at his neck and earlobe, Claire whispered, “Please, Hugh. Love me now.”

  Hugh lifted his head and looked down at her with blue eyes blazing with mesmeric fire. There were questions there, perhaps protests for the expediency of their lovemaking, but wordlessly he pressed forward, nudging against her before thrusting slowly into her silken depths. His eyes held her, sharing the wonder and rapture of his unhurried possession until he was buried deep within her.

  Claire lifted her hands to his cheeks, overwhelmed by the unguarded moment, by the emotion in his gaze. “Hugh …” Claire bit her lip, denying the words she longed to say. Her heart cried, yearning for confession, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t deliberately gift her love, knowing that it would only make worse what was to come.

  Instead, she clenched her muscles around his erection, gripping him tightly with her thighs and Hugh’s eyes closed as he helplessly arched his hips against her, tendons tightening in his neck as he fought for restraint. But Claire wouldn’t have restraint. She wanted her wild, impassioned Highlander to lose control and yield to their uncontrollable desire. “Yes,” she whispered, urging him deeper with her thighs once more and Hugh complied, gathering her tightly in his arms as he retreated and thrust. One arm slid beneath her hips, lifting her against him as he drove into her again and again, his harsh breaths matching hers until they were both panting desperately for the release neither of them wanted to surrender to yet.

  His lips took hers ardently as his body grew taut, and Claire abandoned herself to the molten desire coursing through her, letting the mighty orgasm take her as Hugh erupted inside her with a hoarse cry against her lips. The full weight of his body covered hers but Claire only gloried in it, wrapping her arms and legs around him more fully as his mouth trailed down her cheek, jaw, and neck, murmuring those same foreign words as before against her skin: “Mé grá tú gcónaí, mo Sorcha.”

  Hugh’s lips returned to hers for one last tender kiss before he rolled to his side, drawing her along with him until Claire was nestled against his side. His heaving chest was damp and hot against her cheek but no more so than the tears that began to spill from her eyes as she brushed her lips softly against his skin. Her fingers skimmed across his hard abdomen as the taut muscles relaxed beneath her hand. She hugged him against her as he slipped into Morpheus’s embrace.

  Damn, she thought as she suppressed the heaving sobs within her as best she could. Her chest burned with agonizing pain that warred with the joy Hugh had given her, and the base of her throat was raw and thick with misery. It shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t end like this. “Oh, God, Hugh,” she whispered inaudibly, swiping uselessly at the tears as they continued to flow freely. She knew what those words meant now. They had resonated with emotion she shared. “I love you, too.”

  Chapter 38

  Day Eleven

  As the black skies took on the darkest hue of blue, Claire dressed quickly and crept from the bedroom, leaving Hugh slumbering behind her. Danny was still awake, though he had abandoned his array of monitors in favor of the shabby leather sofa recliner that faced his monstrous television and worked the Xbox controller in his hands with nimble thumbs.

  “We need to talk,” Claire said, walking between her brother and the screen to get his attention but not lingering in his line of sight, knowing from years of doing so that it would only lead to a long and vocal fight. She sat on the sofa next to him. “Can you pause that, please?”

  Danny sighed heavily but complied. “You’re up early.”

  “I know. I guess that means it’s almost your bedtime,” she retorted but couldn’t find the humor to support a smile. “Here’s another unprecedented moment for you to savor. You were right in what you said the other day. Yes, take it for what it is. I don’t plan on repeating it. I know I can’t go with Hugh to Scotland but I’ve also realized that I shouldn’t even be going with him to Canada.”

  “Glad to hear you’ve come around,” he said, throwing his arms to the side as if the movement would have some effect on the video game soldier he controlled. “So what’s the plan then?”
<
br />   “You are going to do it for me.”

  “I am?”

  “You are,” she said in an inflexible tone, holding out the envelope containing Hugh’s new passport and birth certificate … his new life. “You are going to take Hugh to Canada and make sure he gets on that plane. Promise me.”

  Danny nodded with a shrug, one eye still on the frozen screen of his video game. “And what are you going to do?”

  “I’m moving on to Option C.”

  “Option C?”

  “I doubt you’ll like it,” Claire predicted, wringing her hands indecisively. It certainly wasn’t what she wanted to do, but one infuriating Special Agent Phil Jameson had removed her own personal desires from the equation. “Let’s just say that if you don’t hear from me by Friday, send all that stuff we found to every major news agency in the country.”

  “Claire …” She had his full attention now. Those blue eyes, so like hers, were wide with astonishment. “Shit, you’re going to do exactly what I told you not to, aren’t you?”

  There was no use denying it. “Yes, I am.”

  Danny cursed colorfully. “Does Hugh know what idiocy you’re up to?”

  “No, he doesn’t.” Reason and personal freedoms aside, sometimes a person had to accept that there were some things that just had to be done for their own good. “He’d never leave without me, Danny, and I can’t convince him otherwise. He proved that tonight, and if he won’t leave me, I need to leave him.”

  “Without even saying good-bye?” he asked with uncharacteristic sentimentality. “After what I’ve seen between you …”

  “Don’t let him come after me, no matter what, okay?” Claire cut off any reminder of the undeniable bond between her and Hugh, and handed her brother her burner cell phone. “And give this to him to take with him. He can call you when he’s back in Scotland if he needs any help or advice on getting his life started there.” Scotland. It was so far away. Would he ask Danny about her from time to time? Would he miss her? Would he know how much she missed him? Claire banished the heartbreaking thoughts away, wishing the emotional squeeze of her chest could be shaken off as easily. “Your number is already in there.”

  “If he leaves me alive after finding out you’re gone, that is.”

  A chuckle escaped her but ended in a watery sob. Claire’s eyes burned with tears as hot as the fiery ache in her heart.

  “Claire …” Danny reached out hesitantly, wanting to comfort but unsure how to proceed.

  Claire might have flung herself in his arms and sobbed pitifully on his shoulder but was afraid that giving in to the sorrow would only weaken her resolve in doing what she knew she had to do. Instead she prayed for strength. “Be a friend to him, Danny. He’ll need one.”

  “And what am I supposed to tell him that will spare my life?”

  Swallowing back the lump tightening her throat, she replied, “Tell him much can be excused if it’s done for the right reasons. His own words used against him. How can he argue against that?”

  Grabbing up her small suitcase, Claire blindly fled the loft as the tears she had been fighting began to fall, casting a blur over her vision, ignoring her brother’s protests as she went. She would rather face Jameson a thousand times than ever again experience the pain of leaving behind the man she loved. Claire raced desperately down the hall. Knowing that even the time it would take to wait for the elevator to arrive might be all that was necessary for her to surrender to her pleading heart, she took the stairs, with each step denying herself what she wanted most.

  Go back, her heart cried. Don’t leave him. I can’t, her footfall answered. I won’t. Being a warrior Scot, a Highlander, a duke, and not to mention a gentleman with more chivalry in his little finger than most men in her time possessed in their entire bodies, Hugh would insist on his own sacrifice before hers. He would want to slay the figurative dragon and save her, his damsel in distress. He would never appreciate that sometimes the damsel could be the one to save the knight in shining armor, and no doubt he would be angry with her for what she was about to do.

  He would never admit that he had far more to lose than she did and how that was completely unacceptable to her … because he didn’t know how much she loved him.

  And now there would never be another chance to tell him.

  There would never be another chance to hold his hand, to curl up at his side in front of a roaring fire, to tease him about his sweet tooth, or to watch in awe as he assembled a jigsaw puzzle as if he had an instruction manual. She would never see him again and she hated passionately the reason for it.

  Twice love had been taken from her by the actions of her own government. The first time had nearly destroyed her. The second had the potential to do the same.

  It was enough to make Claire consider becoming a Canadian.

  Claire was shifting the Tahoe into park in the hold of the ferry at the Seattle terminus when she realized that she couldn’t recall how she had even gotten there. Hers was one of the few vehicles traveling from Seattle to Bainbridge Island in the early morning rush, when most were on their way into the city, and there were no NSA agents aboard searching cars or passengers. Obviously Jameson had never dreamed that she would come to him.

  Wearily, Claire climbed the iron stairs to the passenger cabin and dropped into a rear-facing seat, watching as the grind of the engines propelled the vessel away from the city. Through the rain-spattered glass, she could picture Hugh standing at the rail, glorying in the chilly nip of the wind while other travelers were bundled in their fleece, his skin warmed by the meager sun, his dark hair tossed and ruffled this way and that as he watched Seattle shrink in the distance.

  She would stand sheltered in the circle of his embrace, warmed to her toes.

  Claire stared up at the buildings that had awed him so, their faces dark with the rising sun at their backs and cast in gloom, much like her shadowed soul. Lost in thought, she let the trip slip by in silence until the blast of a horn announced their impending arrival. Struggling to her feet, Claire glanced one last time at their wake. “Good-bye, Hugh,” she whispered into the air. “I wish I could kiss you good-bye one last time. I wish I could see your amazement the next time you try something new. I wish I could be there to love you forever.”

  Returning to the Tahoe, she disembarked, noting the agents who were searching the long lines of vehicles waiting to board but paying no mind to those arriving. Able to swing around and park the SUV without incident, she buttoned her coat, grabbed her purse, and walked purposefully back toward the terminal, where more agents were patrolling the mass of pedestrians waiting to walk onto the ferry for its next departure.

  Ahead a dark suit and hardly discreet earpiece labeled one of the agents as he stood scanning the crowd. Approaching from behind, Claire tapped on his shoulder to gain his attention. He looked over his shoulder with some annoyance and nearly turned away before his eyes widened in surprise.

  “Take me to your leader.”

  “Wake up, Danny,” Hugh grumbled, kicking at the young man’s foot, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa he was sprawled out on, an arm flung over his eyes to block out the morning light streaming through the bank of windows.

  “Go away,” Danny muttered irritably, rolling onto his side away from Hugh.

  “Danny!” he barked more forcefully. “Wake up, lad! Where is Sorcha? Where is yer sister?”

  “God, stop yelling, would you?”

  Hugh paused at the barely intelligible words. There was “music” playing loud enough in the room to make it nearly impossible to think, much less sleep, and Danny thought he was loud? Reaching down to grab Danny by the arms, Hugh dragged him under protest to a vertical position. “Where is she?”

  “That will probably bruise, you know,” Sorcha’s brother groused, loosing himself from Hugh’s grip and bending to retrieve a can of soda from the floor next to the sofa. He swirled the contents of the half-empty container with a grunt before tipping it to his lips with a gr
imace. “She’s gone, man.”

  “Gone where?”

  “Where do you think?”

  The explanation told Hugh nothing and everything, and he sat heavily on the sagging sofa, dropping his elbows onto his knees and running both hands through his hair, fighting the temptation to pull it out by the roots while the heavy beat of the music thrummed through his brain. He didn’t know which made him more insane. The music or Sorcha.

  All their arguing to separate hadn’t turned the tables in her favor, so Sorcha had let him believe that the matter was settled and then bolted like a deer in his sights as soon as he slept. Anger, fury … and something akin to pride for her resolve and determination swept through him. His fair lass did not like to lose.

  But neither did he.

  Hugh lifted his head and pierced her brother with a menacing glare. “Ye will take me tae her,” he directed with all his ducal command, but as he was quickly learning, the Americans of this bloody time had little respect for noble authority … and not much sense for self-preservation.

  “Nay, verily, I will nae,” Danny drawled, scratching his backside as ambled to the refrigerator and removed a bottle of water. Uncapping it, he tipped his head back, gulping down the contents and eyeing Hugh cautiously over the top as if he were expecting some physical application of force.

  At least the lad had the good sense to be wary of him, Hugh thought with a grunt as he stood clenching his fists. He was nigh prepared to rip Danny limb from limb and most certainly it showed.

  “I was already handed down my diktat this morning,” Danny added, “and that was specifically not to take you to her. Sorry, dude.”

  “I could force ye.”

  “I know you could,” Danny agreed readily, setting the bottle aside and pulling a carton of milk from the refrigerator. “Told her you probably would, too. My sister has no respect for my life.” He gathered a bowl and spoon from the dishwasher and set them on the counter before shaking the contents of several boxes displayed on the counter. He chose one, poured the contents into the bowl, and covered the whole of it with the milk while Hugh waited impatiently with his arms crossed ominously over his broad chest. Danny shoved a spoonful of the stuff into his mouthed and chewed loudly, saying around it, “Make it quick, okay? I’m not much into pain.”