I’m sure you’ll get along famously.
That wasn’t quite how Muira would have put it. Eithne took after her mother, in both looks and, sadly, demeanour apparently. She met Muira with a glacier smile and then bid her a frosty welcome to her home-a large, rather lavish, manor house. Sorcha hadn’t joined them after all. She had sent one of the maids to tell Bridghe that one of her boys had fallen ill, so she was staying at the castle to nurse him.
“So, you’re the one everyone’s talking about?” Eithne asked without requiring an answer. “Hmm,” she mused, looking Muira up and down as if she were in a cattle market. “I thought you’d be prettier.”
Muira scowled and opened her mouth, it was one thing to grin and bear the insults from her motherin-law, but quite another to take them from Lachlan’s sister-however Bridghe spoke before she had a chance to respond.
“Muira’s not been well,” she said.
Bridghe’s voice held a little note of warning, but from the way that Eithne simply tossed her hair carelessly over her shoulder Muira doubted very much that she was taking any notice of her younger sister. Their hostess showed them through to a pretty blue drawing room and offered them both a seat and refreshments.
“You didn’t have anything too serious the matter with you though?” Eithne asked sweetly, looking as though she dearly hoped that the answer would be yes.
“No, nothing serious” Muira replied silkily. “We Camerons are a hardy bunch, you know,” she added innocently, stirring sugar into her tea calmly. Bridghe shot a warning glance in her sister-in-law’s direction that time, while Eithne’s lip curled in sneer that matched her mother’s.
“Well, that remains to be seen,” she hissed nastily.
“Eithne, stop it,” Bridghe snapped. “You know Graem is working towards peace between the clans and that Lachlan will uphold that peace when he becomes Laird.”
“If he becomes Laird,” Eithne said, scowling at Muira, who scowled right back at her.
“Well now you see, that’s something I thought that you might like to help our dear brother with, Eithne” Bridghe said, smiling widely, and helping herself to a dainty little cake off the tea tray, as if she was wholly unaware of the silent battle taking place between the other two women.
“Help how?” Eithne asked suspiciously.
“People are only so… resentful at the moment because they don’t know Muira,” she said simply. Muira frowned at her the way Bridghe had phrased the point, but listened attentively nonetheless.
“Your point being?” Eithne snarled.
“That we need to help everyone get to know Muria of course,” Bridghe said simply, flashing a smile in her sister-in-law’s direction. Muira wanted the floor to open and swallow her. “For Lachlan’s sake,” she qualified.
A muscle seemed to be twitching unpleasantly in Eithne’s jaw. She was silent for a full minute. However, her lips finally twisted into a thin, pinched smile. “Well, if it’s for Lachlan,” she simpered, “I’ll see what I can do.” The look she shot Muira was positively lethal.
Muira looked from Bridghe’s satisfied face to Eithne’s sinister one. She was a Cameron lamb being led to the MacRae slaughter…
..ooOOoo..
Lachlan looked around the empty chamber and frowned. He hadn’t told Muira to stay in their rooms, but frankly he had expected her to. She didn’t really know anyone, she was still recovering from her fever and, he hated to even think it, but she probably wouldn’t be well received if she went wandering around the castle alone. So where on earth was she?
Lachlan dropped a posy of wild winter flowers onto a table, feeling decidedly foolish for having gone to the trouble of picking them now. He thought about finding a vase, but in a fit of pique left the little bouquet where it was to die. He rang the bell for Liane, hoping that the maid might be able to enlighten him as to the whereabouts of his wife, but not really expecting her to be able to tell him much.
He was a little surprised therefore when Liane was able to tell him where Muira had gone. Lachlan wasn’t sure if he was entirely comforted by the explanation however. He was certain that Bridghe would only ever act with Muira’s best interests at heart, but he didn’t know if taking her to see their eldest sister was the wisest of moves.
Eithne was a little too much like their mother for Lachlan liking, quick to judge and hard of heart, and he was also slightly annoyed that he wasn’t getting the first opportunity to show off his new wife. He wondered why that should be… Deciding against lingering in the room alone to dwell on his thoughts, Lachlan wandered back out into the hall and made his way towards Graem’s rooms.
He had been working with the Laird for much of the day. Graem wanted to redraw the MacRae’s western borders with the Camerons, offering the other clan a portion of the land that had been taken away from them a hundred years beforehand. The land in question wasn’t especially fertile. In fact, it consisted mainly of bogs, which was the only reason why Graem would possibly be allowed to get away with it by his own clan.
His intentions hadn’t been made public knowledge yet. Lachlan could only imagine the objections that would erupt when they were finally disclosed! His visit to Castle Cameron had originally been intended to test how the MacRaes would respond to such a gesture… suffice to say he hadn’t had that opportunity, and consequently Graem was considering asking an emissary from the MacRaes to visit them at Eilean Donan Castle.
Lachlan had been going to tell Muira the news. He was sure that one of her cousins or brothers would be asked to come, and he’d thought she might be cheered up by the prospect of seeing a familiar face.
Only she wasn’t around to be cheered up, Lachlan grumped.
He walked into Graem’s library, took a key that he had been given by the old man, and opened up a locked desk drawer. Lachlan took from the drawer a roll of old parchment-the roll of old parchment that he had spent much of the day agonising over. He sat down and began to agonise again. The problem they faced was giving something away that they wouldn’t miss, while presenting the Camerons with a stretch of land that appeared to be of value. Despite popular MacRae opinion to the contrary, the Camerons weren’t idiots.
Graems library happened to be at the front of the castle, so when a carriage drew at the main doors, Lachlan heard. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from getting to his feet and wandering over to the window to look outside.
The sight that met his eyes was expected, but his breath still left his body as Lachlan looked down on his wife. She was so beautiful. Curvy and lush in all the right places, with bright sparkling eyes that he was too far away to be able to see clearly, and rich locks of red hair that Lachlan would happily lie tangled in forever.
His body was already keening towards her. Longing to rush down to meet her, or to at least hurry back to their rooms so that he would be there waiting to draw her into his arms when she arrived. However, whatever his body… and heart… might cry, Lachlan’s mind was intent on keeping him exactly where he was-to prove to himself that he was a man still in control of emotions and desires…
All of half an hour past before that control buckled.
Lachlan decided to take the maps with him back to his own study, so that he could look over them there. He argued that he would be more comfortable in his own rooms, and that this was the only-or at least the fundamental-reason for returning to them. He rolled up the maps and tucked them under his arm, locked up the library and then made his way back his chambers.
Muira was waiting for him this time. She was sitting in front of the fire with a book in her hands, although she didn’t appear to be reading it. The flowers that he had left to wilt had been arranged in a little clay vase and looked only a little worse for wear. Had that been due to Muira or Liane? Lachlan didn’t know, nor did he ask.
He nodded in Muira’s direction. A flood of warmth seized his heart at the wide smile that broke across his wife’s face when she saw him enter the room. However, Lachlan didn’t let himself return the gr
in. He was still annoyed, although he knew it was petty.
“Lachlan?” Muira rose to her feet.
She frowned anxiously and followed him into his little study. He was going to lay the maps out on the desk, but chose instead to put them away in a little secure cabinet he owned.
“Is something wrong?” Muira asked hesitantly.
Was something wrong? It felt as though there was something wrong, but Lachlan couldn’t explain what-or at least he could try, but he would probably only end up sounding ridiculous.
“No,” he sighed. “No-I’ve just a long day.” Muira nodded her head in quick agreement, looking relieved by his response. “And you?” he murmured, ushering Muira out of the study and back into the main chamber of their rooms. “I hear you’ve been out and about?”
“It was Bridghe’s idea,” Muira confessed. She looked uneasy, Lachlan couldn’t decide if that made him feel better or worse. “She wanted me to meet your other sisters.”
“And did you?” he murmured, shutting the door to the study.
“I met Eithne,” Muira nodded. “Sorcha stayed at the castle to look after her son.”
“He’s sick?” Lachlan frowned, obviously concerned about his nephew. Muira gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.
“Not very, it’s just a cold, Bridghe said,” she assured him gently. Lachlan looked down into her upturned eyes and felt himself falling. His gaze fell to her lips, and he felt a heavy aching weight settle in his gut.
“So, you saw Eithne?” he asked, his voice slowly becoming gentler. “What did you think of her?”
“She’s-” Muira began, but she immediately seemed to run into difficulty.
“She’s?” Lachlan sighed and prompted.
He sat down by the fire, in the spot where he’d first seen Muira. His wife followed and was rewarded for her actions by being instantly pulled down onto her husband’s lap. She looked surprised, but pleased, to be there-if Lachlan was honest, he was a little surprised to find her there himself. He was sure he hadn’t thought about tugging her down, he’d just done it.
“She reminds me of you mother,” Muira said, very carefully.
Lachlan winced. “She was that bad?” he growled. He hadn’t thought that Eithne would take instantly to Muira, but he hadn’t expected her to be anything like their mother!
“Oh no! I didn’t mean-” Muira began diplomatically, because it was clear to Lachlan that she did mean what she’d said.
“I’m sorry you have to put up with my vile family,” he breathed, laying a hand along her cheek and tilting her face towards him.
“I wouldn’t say-” she started, but wasn’t permitted to finish.
Lachlan moved to smother the words under his mouth, unable to resist the temptation of kissing her any longer. Muira squealed in surprise, parting her lips just wide enough to permit him access, and so without any further invitation Lachlan’s tongue surged between her teeth. He feasted on her as if it had been days, and not merely hours, that they had been parted.
I missed you… the words rolled over and over inside his head, but Lachlan refused to let them fly. “I want you,” he puffed instead, sitting back in the chair and encouraging Muira to straddle him.
“Here? Now?” she gasped. Her eyes grew wider as he nodded and arranged her, lips curving into a wickedly smug grin as he bucked his hips, forcing her to feel how serious his intentions were.
“Here,” he purred, reaching for the hem of her skirt. “Now,” he whispered huskily, pressing his lips against her throat, while Muria whimpered her consent.
Her hands reached for his body, a little hesitantly at first, but with growing enthusiasm. They dipped under his shirt, fingernails scratching over the taut muscle, but Lachlan was too impatient to indulge in slow thorough explorations. He knew where he wanted her hands, and he was no longer reserved about telling her.
“Touch it,” he grunted, bucking towards her again, having hiking her skirt up to her thighs.
Muira gaped at him for a moment, and then she smiled, a naughty, sultry little smile that sent the tiny amount of blood that hadn’t already been there shooting straight to Lachlan’s cock. He didn’t understand how she could reduce him to such a state!
“Touch what?” she purred, but her fingers had already dropped to pass heavily over the lifted folds of Lachlan’s kilt. His breath hissed between his teeth as she rubbed him through the tartan. “This?” she asked, all innocence, hand finally closing around the swollen shaft of his cock.
Lachlan bit his lip as she delved under the fabric, slowly pushing it back until he was completely exposed. She licked her lips unwittingly as she stared at the thick pulsing rob of his sex, and a shudder passed through her husband’s body. Suck it, he very nearly begged.
“It does look in need of some attention,” she whispered coyly, pumping him lightly as she peppered a line of kisses down his throat. “I wonder what we can do about that?”
“Muira,” Lachlan growled. His grip on her legs had to be leaving bruises, but he couldn’t find it himself to loosen his hold. “Ride it,” he groaned, lifting his hips towards her.
Muira lowered herself over him, but only so that she could grind her clit against the head of his cock, taking the edge off her own ragged need. Lachlan loved her like this, wanton and needy. He loved that he had made her like this-that he had taught her how to be so lustful. Beginning to pant she moved, dragging him through her slit, letting Lachlan feel how wet she was for him.
“Just take it,” he begged. “Just-!”
All the air left his lungs in a rush as Muria obeyed, impaling herself on his enormous cock in one swift fluid motion, which robbed her of breath just as completely as it had done to him. He cursed gruffly, overwhelmed by how amazing it felt to be held inside his wife’s body. The rapturous pleasure never seemed to diminish, no matter how many times he had her it was always exquisite.
“You feel so good,” he panted. “Oh God, you feel so good,” he choked again, as Muira began to move.
She ground their bodies together, concentrating the pressure of her movements on her clit. She knew now, how to eke work her own body, and drew out her own pleasure while driving Lachlan almost mindless with need.
“More, lass,” he pleaded roughly, trying to guide her movements, but Muira wouldn’t be shown, for the first time in their short marriage she seemed intend on taking him her way.
Lachlan couldn’t even begin to describe how erotic he found it all-watching her face, lips parted, eyes almost closed, as she greedily took pleasure from his body, bestowing pleasure in return, but just enough to torment and not sate Lachlan’s voracious hunger.
“Ooh ah-Lachlan,” Muria puffed, her movements were becoming jerky, and her voice was breathless and strained. “I need-I can’t-I-” she panted incoherently.
“You can,” Lachlan groaned desperately. “Come for me, lass,” he rasped, lifting his hips up off the seat of the chair and driving his cock deep inside her sheath.
Muira arched her back into the fierce thrust, her face contorted in a silence scream, and then she shattered, jerking and clenching, and pushing Lachlan past the limits of his frayed restraint. He lifted her off the chair with him; still greedily keeping his sex plunged tight inside her cunt. Then Lachlan laid her down on the thick rug before the fire, and then he started to fuck her.
She turned him into some kind of lust-crazed beast, unable to slake his desire for her body. He slammed the thick rod of his cock into the tight sleeve of her sex, groaning his appreciating for the way the walls of her cunt squeezed and grasped, milking him greedily.
“I’m going to come,” he chocked, but his wife wasn’t listening. She was still riding the wave of her own release. “Muira,” Lachlan cried, driving home one last time, coming to rest just as deep inside her body as was possible, before exploding in ecstasy, filling her with his seed as his whole body hummed with a magnitude of pleasure that he’d never felt before Muira. Once spent, he slumped, utterly exhausted, and for the
moment satisfied.
“Oh my-” Muira panted. She looked dazed, and so thoroughly loved that Lachlan could keep a smug grin from breaking out across his lips.
“Oh my indeed,” he whispered hoarsely, summoning the energy to pick himself up and crawl over her body, laying a kiss against her forehead.
They lay tangled together on the rug in front of the fire for several long minutes. Lachlan had rolled onto his side, drawing Muira against him. He peppered her face and neck with kisses, stroking his fingers down her sides as they waited for the drugging pleasure of their lovemaking to recede.
“You were telling me about Eithne?” Lachlan yawned.
“I was trying to,” Muira giggled. “Before you-”
“Ah-so it was all my fault?” Lachlan purred huskily, nipping at Muira’s earlobe and causing her to squeal.
“I hope you’re not implied that it was mine?” she teased, thumping him playfully.
“I most certainly am,” he murmured thickly, claiming her lips in a deep dizzying kiss before continuing. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he drawled.
“I-I’m beginning to gather some small idea,” Muira gasped. Her cheeks flushed prettily, and Lachlan smiled at the enticing sight.
“I was going to tell you,” he began softly, “Graem is inviting an emissary from your old clan to visit Eilean Donan soon.” Lachlan couldn’t account for the pang he felt when Muira’s face lit up joyfully. Perhaps it was because he took it as evidence of how she could never be entirely happy with him?
“Really?” she asked, beaming widely. “Who do you think will come?”
“One of your cousins I should think,” Lachlan murmured, wondering if maybe he would have done better not to raise the issue.
Muira nodded eagerly. “Do you think Ewan or James might accompany them?”
“To see how ill I’m treating you?” Lachlan grumbled, pushing himself up off the rug and onto his feet.
“No! Of course not!” Muira said quickly, an anxious little frown clouded her previously happy face. She stood up too. “I didn’t mean-”
“I know,” Lachlan cut her off. She missed them-that was all. She had been torn from her family and friends, and everything that was safe and familiar, he should be able to understand and appreciate that. Lachlan just wished that he were enough to keep her happy…
A Beautiful Lie (The Camaraes) Page 19
