Love in the Time of a Highland Laird (A Laird for All Time Book 3)

by Angeline Fortin

  He exalted in her open joy. Sharing it with her.

  But that wasn’t all he longed to share.

  Truth, he didn’t care to wait any longer.

  Duke or not.

  * * *

  Honestly she was surprised they made it all the way there. There had been a close call in the stairwell with her pinned against the treads that had almost belied his insistence on seeing them to a private locale.

  She hardly had a second to ascertain the room Keir led her to was in fact a bedroom before he slammed the door and trapped her to it. Tossing their shoes and sundries aside, he kissed her tenderly, so tenderly it might not have been called a kiss, but she felt the tension in his body, the tightly leashed passion.

  “Are ye certain, lass?” he had the gentlemanly nerve to ask, as if the thousand kisses delaying their journey from beach to bedchamber might have relayed some doubt. “We needn’t rush. There is time yet.”

  For what? More waiting? No, she was ready for this. She wanted this. The ultimate compendium of the thousands of novels she’d devoured in her life. No longer did she have the vaguest doubt that he would trump them all. She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. Whether it was rushing or not. Accelerated her departure or not.

  Drawing his head down, she answered him without words. With a hot kiss, her lips parted and inviting. A kiss of encouragement.

  An unequivocal yes.

  With a groan—of relief?—Keir cupped her cheeks in his hands and deepened the kiss, plundering her mouth as he hadn’t yet. There was not gentleness anymore, just pure need, and she answered him in kind. Her blood burned in her veins in an instant. Pounding in her temples. Nipping. Licking.

  Her head swam until she felt almost faint. Still, he persisted, stealing her breath. It wasn’t enough. He tasted of sin, wicked temptation. As wonderful as the kisses they’d shared in the carriage had been, she knew now they’d been little more than child’s play.

  These kisses weren’t meant to seduce. They were meant to enflame. To bewitch. To burn. Unable to bear it any longer, Al tore her lips away with a cry of surrender.

  He gave no quarter, raking his teeth down the side of her neck. He licked at the hollow behind her ear. Nipped at her lobe. Bit her shoulder.

  He turned her in his arms, unlacing her dress much as he had on the beach not long before. But there was no laughter now, no teasing. Her bodice fell away. Her skirts fell to the floor unnoticed.

  Turning her once more, he looped his finger under her bra strap again. As he tugged it off her shoulder impatiently, she had no doubt this time what interested him more. The other strap followed, baring her breasts to his burning gaze. When she tried to cover them with her hands, he pushed them away.

  “Nay, lass. Let me look my fill.”

  Her body quivered under his hands as they skimmed down her arms. Up her ribcage until his hands cupped her breasts over her bra. “Ye’re so lovely.”

  A long sigh escaped her when he bent his head, his tongue traced the rise of her breast swelling from the satin cups.

  “Oh, Keir… yes.”

  “Aye, mo ghrá, I intend tae if ye’ll take this bluidy thing off,” he growled.

  With a strangled laugh, she reached around and unclasped the bra, letting it slide down her arms. His hands were back in an instant, scorching against her tender flesh.

  “Sweet lass.” His head dipped once more, his tongue circling one sensitive nipple until her knees grew weak.

  “This is so not a bed,” she whispered hoarsely, clinging to him for support. He stared at her, his blue eyes aflame with an inner fire she’d never seen in them before. “You insisted on a bed.”

  A wicked grin turned up the corner of his mouth. “So I did.”

  He lifted her, cradling her in his arms for the few seconds it took his long strides to cross the room to the bed. He laid her on it, following until she was pressed deep into the mattress beneath him. Their mouths met once more. His chest searing her breasts even through his thin shirt.

  But she wanted more. She tugged at his hem and he leaned away to yank it over his head, balling it up before flinging it aside. His chest bulged and flexed, and Al couldn’t help herself. Running her palms over his pecs, she gloried in the feel of his solid flesh, his hot skin.

  He gave her hardly a second to enjoy it though. He covered her once more. This time, she cried out as skin met skin. It was electrifying. Her body was instantly ablaze.

  She squirmed beneath him, fisting her hands in the bedcovers. Unable to resist, she drove her fingers into his hair and tugged him up to meet her hungry lips once more. He complied with a groan. Tasting her again and again as if he couldn’t get enough.

  She doubted she ever could. He was a feast. To her eyes. To her lips. His hands skimmed down the length of her body and up once more to close over her breasts. Then his lips did leave hers.

  She flinched when they closed over her nipple, drawing on it hard. His tongue flicked over the sensitive tip and she cried out, holding him tightly to her breast as he continued to assault the tender flesh with his mouth. Each time he sucked, tension pooled more heavily between her thighs as if some invisible cord connected them.

  Her other breast wasn’t lacking in attention either. He fondled her nipple, rolling it between his fingers. The combination of both left her restless and whimpering. The ache in her core becoming almost painful.

  Helplessly, she ran her hands over his muscular back, over his hips. Arching beneath him, seeking relief.

  “Dinnae rush so, mo rúnsearc,” he murmured against her breast. “We’ve all night.”

  Al tossed her head on the pillow in denial, panting hard. “I hope you’re not planning on waiting that long.”

  “So impatient,” he teased, trading one nipple for the other.

  His patience made her want to scream. Her needy body was sprinting for the finish line already. Near bursting with need repressed for far too long. He’d been right. Her own laughable skills were nothing compared to what a man… this man could do to her.

  And he hadn’t really done much yet!

  How he would laugh if he knew just how incredibly he’d aroused her with a few kisses. She’d be pleading with him soon.

  God, she’d never live it down. She wouldn’t beg him. She wouldn’t…

  “Please, Keir.” She bit her lip, trying to reclaim the words. Her hips arched once more as if they had a mind of their own.

  He lifted his head, gazing down at her with ardor smoldering in his eyes. “Say it again.”

  She shouldn’t give him the pleasure. “Please.”

  For a man who’d never dealt with underwear, he handled them neatly. Hooking his thumbs under the sides of her panties, he slid them down her legs. Caressing her as he slowly tugged them off. Too slowly.

  His palms slid up her legs, behind her knees. Up the inside of her thighs. She was quaking from head to toes, her breaths unsteady.

  Up, up.

  She tensed as his fingertips grazed her damp curls.

  Cried out as he slid a single finger inside her.

  And exploded. Her cry became a hoarse scream as she came hard. Pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes, she bit back a sob. He pushed his finger deeper inside her and she involuntarily contracted around him.

  “Oh, God!” she sobbed. Over and over he pumped his finger, shallowly, somehow elongating her orgasm.

  She’d never imagined it could feel like that. Her whole body had experienced it, from top to bottom. Every nerve ending was singing in exaltation. In sorrow. It had been too much, too fast.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, not looking at him.

  “Ne’er apologize, lass. I willnae apologize for enjoying the sight of ye coming apart for me. In fact, I plan tae see it happen again verra soon,” he said in his gruff burr, climbing over her once more.

  * * *

  He pulled her hands away from her eyes, grinning when she refused to look at him. His fiery lass w
as even more passionate than he’d ever imagined. It seemed he wasn’t the only one surprised by the ferocity of her climax. Yet he reveled in the fact that he’d driven her to it. Indeed, he’d made her sing.

  “Dinnae be embarrassed by the depth of yer passion, lass. Nae when it pleases me so much tae ken I was able to bring ye tae such heights.”

  “But you…?”

  “Och, my time will come sooner than naught.”

  His assurance was laughable. In truth, he’d nearly spilt his seed when he’d felt her sweet, wet body clasp his finger. He might not require much more effort expended by her to find his release than he’d needed for her.

  But he didn’t intend to rush what was sure to be a moment of pure paradise. As he told her, they had all night.

  Holding her hands in his, he kissed her swollen lips, running his tongue along the seam until she yielded him entry. She tasted of heaven.

  “Look at me, mo rúnsearc,” he commanded softly, rocking back on his heels.

  Waiting until she met his gaze, he lifted her hand to his lips. He kissed each finger without taking his eyes off hers. Drew each digit into his mouth, worrying the pads against his tongue. He kissed her palm, the inside of her wrist where her pulse fluttered madly. The inside of her elbow, tickling the sensitive flesh there with his tongue. She drew a sharp breath through parted lips and he bit back a grin lest she lapse into misplaced embarrassment again.

  She was magnificent.

  And she was his.

  Aye, they had all night.

  Chapter 24

  Seven times.

  Seven times he’d taken her on the path to oblivion, wringing her out and leaving her limp before he was done with her. For all the books she’d read describing in detail how sex might feel, she’d never imagined just how truly combustible it could be when it was her person actively involved in the incineration. Words that had once been just words to her had taken on all new meaning.

  Ecstasy. Rapture. Nirvana.

  He had taken her to heights she’d never known existed, in ways she’d never imagined being taken despite years of fantasizing. He’d taken her on the rhapsodic flight of coiled muscles and the beguiling friction of bodies melding.

  Once her initial frenzy had been satisfied, he’d shown her slow sensuality with tangled bodies and prolonged releases. Five of those times, she climbed the pinnacle of rapture with his encouragement alone.

  Twice he had joined her. At first, she’d thought the joy of feeling him possess her that first time could never be matched. He’d owned her, filled her body and soul, pushing her even higher. Then higher yet, every stroke of his body into hers reaching deeper than she ever imagined. They’d come together, the rush of heat exploding between her thighs had been so overwhelming, she’d screamed into the night. He’d driven into her repeatedly as if he couldn’t stop, crying out, too, at the strength of his orgasm.

  But when he entered her the second time, her cries were deep in her heart. The joining so poignant, Al knew she would never forget the moment she surrendered everything to him. She’d felt raw, exposed. He had stripped her bare to the core.

  She was his. A part of her always would be.

  It was a thrilling and distressing thought.

  He’d had his quick fuck just as he’d promised because for all his talk about the ways of the rake versus the rogue, they were one and the same.

  The end for them was near.

  She’d known it the instant she’d awoken in that big, well-used bed alone.

  That’s just the way it was.

  * * *

  “What else?”

  Keir pinched his nose as his new steward, Stewart Neville, slid another sheet of parchment across the desk.

  “Sign at the bottom here, Your Grace. Just one more and I will have the transferences filed this afternoon. I’ll see to it myself.”

  “Thank ye, Neville. Ye’ve been a great help.”

  “My pleasure to serve you, Your Grace.”

  Cringing at the title, he wanted to snap at the man not to call him that. To announce to the world that Hugh was alive and well. All morning he heard the condolences from staff and retainers, read them from clan members and tenants close enough to have already heard the news. More would come.

  He was tired of this farce already, but what choice did he have? The truth couldn’t come out. Even if it could, Al had assured him there was no way to retrieve Hugh from the future.

  And hence his own was thoroughly fucked.

  He’d only been able to maintain his sanity throughout this entire ordeal by clinging to what Al offered him. Intrigue, excitement. That ever-present distraction that had so irked him a week past but now he sought like a lifeline.

  After last night, she was more of a distraction than ever. If her appearance through that wormhole had turned his world upside down, their lovemaking had sent it into mayhem. She’d floored him with her passion. He was stunned by how profoundly he’d been affected as well.

  Something he accredited to his genuine fondness of her person.

  None of his previous lovers had sparked the honest affection he’d felt for her right from the beginning. No, that wasn’t right. It hadn’t really been until she stared him down in his library that day. Wallowing in her own filth for days on end and forcing him to take the responsibility for it. She hadn’t backed down then.

  She hadn’t really since.

  Aye, for a wee slip of a lass who claimed to be adverse to confrontation, she pushed him mercilessly. Challenged him endlessly. He loved it. There was no other person he longed to talk to more. Every minute spent in the company of others made him impatient for hers. Neville was a fine example.

  His impatience to be away and seek her out had him tapping his foot peevishly.

  In his life, he’d not been so eager for a person’s company. Not even Hugh’s. Beyond his colleagues and collaborators, he had few true friendships in his life. Idle chatter bored him. And like Hugh, his relations with his family were not the strongest in his life.

  He’d never before realized that in a life surrounded by people, one could have been so alone. Three brothers he had and yet he’d been lonely. Even Hugh had never delved as deeply to find the real him.

  Yet, Al had waltzed into his life and in a short time had become a friend unlike any other. With her, he’d been able to find solace in the arms of another, something he’d not known since his mother died. He’d also found the challenge and intellectual stimulation of his mentors and contemporaries, the camaraderie of his cousin all combined in the body of a courtesan.

  Now there was even more to look forward to.

  Al as his lover.

  “There is one last thing, Your Grace,” Neville said, recalling him from his reverie and sliding a large parchment across the desk. His eyes were drawn immediately to the bottom of the page bearing a large red seal with a gold ribbon pinned beneath it.

  “What is this?”

  “A proclamation from the king, Your Grace. It arrived by special messenger this morning.”

  “And ye dinnae think tae lead wi’ this?” he said irritably, drawing the paper closer.

  “In all honesty, Your Grace,” the steward pushed out of his chair and stood, “I thought it best to complete our other work before you saw it. You’d be in no mood for any of it after reading this.”

  Curious, he scanned the first few lines. His eyes widened then narrowed. “That unbelievable bastard.”

  “Just so, Your Grace.”

  Strong condemnation coming from his Sassenach steward.

  He read on. And further on. “He cannae…”

  But he had.

  With a howl of rage, Keir swept an arm across the desk, scattering everything with a rain of clanks and clatters. It wasn’t enough. A small vase was flung into the fireplace, dissolving into tiny shards of porcelain in a more satisfying explosion as Neville slunk out the door.

  Another followed, bigger this time.

  “What the hell are
you doing?”

  Spinning around, he found Al at the door staring at him incredulously. “’Tis better than murder, lass.”

  “I guess that would depend on whose,” she said dryly, taking a few steps into the study to retrieve a spilled inkwell from the carpet before the stain spread too far. Breathing heavily, he watched her make her way toward him, picking up a few more things on her way to the desk.

  Each time she bent, her long, wavy hair would swing down until she swept it back absently. It was hypnotic, soothing as waves. His explosive rage abated a tad with each sway.

  “Is this another example of your temper? I think a few choice words would be less destructive.”

  A bitter bark of laughter escaped him. “Sometimes words cannae express copious amounts of anger.”

  Her cool gray eyes studied him, thoroughly but warily. “Yes, I can see you’re very angry. Why?”

  “’Tis nae ye, lass.”

  “Glad to hear it.” The words were flippant but sensing true relief behind them, he clenched his fists, forcing his temper to further recede.

  “I could ne’er be so angry wi’ ye,” he assured her.

  She huffed a single laugh. “I think we both know that’s not true. What happened?”

  “The bluidy king of England happened.” He retrieved the parchment from the floor and held it out to her. “He’s making sure the Hielanders pay for their attempt tae dethrone him.”

  She fumbled through the elaborate language in the first few lines of the proclamation. She remembered something about this, if only vaguely. He was right. It was a payback of sorts.

  “…it should not be lawful for any person or persons, except such persons as are therein mentioned and described, within the shire of Dunbartain, on the north side of the water of Leven, Stirling on the north side of the river of Forth, Perth, Kincardin, Aberdeen, Inverness, Nairn, Cromarty, Argyle, Forfar, Bamff, Sutherland, Caithness, Elgine and Ross, to have in his or their custody, use, or bear, broad sword or target, poignard, whinger, or durk, side pistol, gun, or other warlike weapon, otherwise than in the said act…” She glanced up from the page. “They’re sure covering their bases.”