A Highlander's Obsession

by Vonnie Davis

  She sighed, fighting back tears and handed the note to Gram. Fiona leaned over Gram’s shoulder to read the message too. Meanwhile, Paisley’s fingers trembled as she untied the black velvet cords. When she upended the white velvet bag, a silver chain and pendant tumbled out. The pendant was a silver outline of a heart, with a pearl flanked by sapphires and emeralds on one side. The word Beloved was engraved in bold letters on the other.

  The battle lost, tears blurred her vision. “I’ve never gotten jewelry from a man before. This is so beautiful.” She blotted tears as they tumbled and rolled across her cheeks. Not once had she imagined men like this existed beyond romance books.

  Fiona stepped behind her. “Since me son’s not here to put this on ye, I feel I should do the honor in his place.” Paisley handed her the necklace and Fiona clasped it around her neck. “Turn around so I can see how it looks.” When Paisley turned, Fiona hugged her. “Thank ye for bringing me eldest son happiness. He’s so like his da. It’s been almost twenty years since Duff passed and I’ve yet to meet a man who measures up.” She pulled back and patted Paisley’s arms. “Like his da, Creighton loves with a fierceness. He’ll protect ye and threaten to destroy anyone who hurts ye.”

  “Let me look at the necklace.” Gram’s cold fingers slipped against Paisley’s throat as she wrapped her hand around the heart. “Well, he certainly wants the world to know you’re loved. He’s got it right there in bold letters for every man to see.”

  “Duff was always territorial and jealous too.” Fiona winked at Gram. “And so passionate.” She laughed as Paisley’s face burned. “I’ll leave ye two so ye can dress for tonight. I’m going along to the cèilidh, Effie, to introduce ye to yer future neighbors. I cannot tell ye how pleased I am yer staying on in Scotland. One can always use a new friend.” She pivoted to Paisley and winked. “And maybe a daughter-in-law.” She glanced at her watch. “Dinner will be in forty-two minutes. I must check on Cook.”

  “Wait. Do you have a couple minutes? I have something important to say.” Paisley’s fingers entwined and her stomach tensed into a chunk of granite. She’d rarely volunteered this information, but Creighton’s mother deserved to know. “I’ve just told Gram about your sons being able to shift.”

  Fiona’s eyebrows rose and then dropped into a scowl. She didn’t seem too pleased. “Aye?”

  “I meant no disrespect to any of them, but as my parental guide, Gram has a right to know about the man I’ve fallen in love with.” She stepped forward on shaky legs and breathed deep. “Just as you have a right to know about me.” She fidgeted with her hair and the sleeves at her wrists. Nerves had her shaking. She’d opened the door to her innermost secrets; now if only she had the courage to walk through it.

  Gram stood beside Paisley, an arm around her trembling body.

  Paisley leaned into her grandmother’s petite, supportive frame.

  “Go ahead, sweet pea.” Gram glanced at Fiona. “You have to realize how hard she’s fought to keep this a secret from anyone. In her heart, she fears you’ll think her a freak.” Gram inhaled a confrontational breath. “And she’s no such thing.”

  Fiona nodded. “No one could ken the feeling better than I do. I married a man who others would have labeled a freak and bore him four children with the same abilities.”

  Buoyed by Fiona’s statement, Paisley forged ahead. “I … I’m an animal communicator. I can hear what they’re thinking and respond to them in a silent form of communication.” The words rushed out. Her gaze rose to gauge the woman’s reaction.

  “Then ’tis blessed we are to have ye.” Her head tilted to the side. “I’m thinking me son has found the perfect woman fer him and his clan. The bears in the sleuth will adore ye.” Fiona’s warm hand cupped her cheek. “I’m proud of yer bravery fer telling me. I won’t forget yer honesty.”

  After Fiona left the room, Gram enveloped Paisley in her arms. The familiar smell of baby powder soothed.

  “I can’t believe I told someone what I am. Just like that”—she snapped her fingers—“I told.”

  Gram pulled back and smiled. “Scotland is good for you. So is that hunky male. I was never more proud of you than just now when you squared your shoulders and announced what you are. That was one bitchin’ moment.”

  Later, Paisley did a slow turn in front of the mirror. Creighton had made great choices on his purchases. The knit top had a more revealing neckline than she normally wore, but she enjoyed how she looked in it. She was about to slip on her shoes when Gram stomped in, wearing her plaid pelican baffies.

  She extended her arms and did a slow pirouette. “Well? How do I look?”

  “Very Scottish.”

  “You look very sexy in that low top your man picked out for you. Wait till he sees you in it. He’ll be all over you. Ready to go downstairs to eat?”

  Paisley and her grandmother had just reached the bottom of the steps when Creighton barked her name from the study. “You go on, Gram. I want to thank him for my necklace.”

  Creighton never looked up from the sheaf of papers he scanned. “Close the door behind ye and turn the damn lock.”

  Frowning at his tone of voice, she did as he asked. “Is anything wrong?”

  He forked his fingers through his dark hair. “Aye. Every fukin’ thing seems wrong right now. In my meeting this afternoon, I learned drug use is growing in me clan. Where it’s coming from, I havena clue, but I will damn sure find out. To add to my growing list of problems, somehow Duncan has escaped.”

  She sat in the leather chair in front of his desk. “How? You said all four of his legs were broken. Did he shift to human form?”

  “ ’Twould make no difference. Any injury we have as a bear, we have as a human. Besides, severe injuries or exhaustion prohibit our ability to shift to human status. Which means he had help.” He glanced away, his jaw clenched. “Someone knocked out Earnan and took Duncan. They snuck up behind the auld man and held an ether-soaked rag over his face. He’ll be all right, but I have to tell ye, I’m damned pissed about this.” He tossed aside the papers. “What the hell is Alex’s last name?”

  “Alex?” The sudden change in topic startled her.

  His dark eyes bore into hers and a muscle jumped in his jaw when he leaned across his desk. “Aye.”

  “Bristol. Alex Bristol.”

  A massive fist thumped the surface of the desk. His lamp toppled to the floor. “Dammit to fukin’ hell! He’s made a reservation. He’s due here at the lodge tomorrow. By tomorrow night, I’ll be in jail for murder. Ye are mine!”

  Her fingers wrapped around her necklace. She was out of her element, with no clue how to calm him. “Creigh, I didn’t know he was coming. I’ve had my cell turned off for days.”

  “So ye’ve not been in contact? No emails? No instant messages? Texts?”

  “No. Of course not. I’ve been focused on you and all this bear-shifting business.” She stood, sauntered around the desk and perched on his kilt-clad lap. “Alex looked on me as an investment. He was always after me to cash in on my gift in hopes of earning us lots of money.”

  His strong arms wrapped around her, his face snuggled against her neck and, after several deep breaths, he seemed to relax a little. “I dinna want him near ye.”

  Her fingers threaded through his hair and she kissed his forehead. “He’ll only pale in comparison to you.” She pulled out her Scottish burr. “Ye have no worries, laddie.”

  Evidently, he wasn’t in the mood to be humored. “I meant what I said. Ye are mine and I’ll destroy anyone who comes near ye.” He glared at her with narrowed eyes. “Why are ye wearing yer new shirt backward? Surely ye don’t think I’ll let ye wear it like that so every horny feckin’ bastard in town can see yer bonnie breasts?” Two blunt fingertips slid beneath her neckline. His square jaw was set in determination.

  Lord, he really was in a mood. Maybe a change of topic was in order. “Thank you for the lovely necklace.” Her fingers caressed the silver heart. “I will cherish it
forever.” She leaned in and kissed him. When her tongue swept across his lips, he groaned and fisted a hand in her hair. The kiss blazed from sweet to scorching, as if someone had thrown a match into a vat of kerosene. He leaned her back over one of his arms while he bent over her, plundering and commanding until she quivered with need.

  “If he so much as touches ye—”

  She grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him down for another kiss.

  His lips trailed along her jaw. “If he so much as talks to ye—”

  She bit his hard jawline and he burrowed his face in her neck. “Ye are mine.”

  “You act as if a Scottish laird has something to fear from an American veterinarian.”

  He stilled. Calmed like the eye of a hurricane. He straightened slowly and scowled at her.

  Oh, hell, I think I just kicked a sleeping bear.

  “Are ye saying I’m a fearful man, lassie?”

  Now was the time for the man to realize she wouldn’t cower when he was angry. “No. I’m saying you need to get a grip. Alex and I are history.”

  “History?” He set her on her feet and scooted his office chair back so he and his scowl could stand. “History doesn’t travel thousands of miles on a whim, Paisley.” His eyes glowed golden and she skittered around the desk to give him some breathing room. “History doesn’t think it can come into another man’s home to take back what it’s lost.” He stalked toward her, his fists opening and closing. “History doesn’t have the audacity to romance another man’s intended.”

  “That’s what you did to me. I was engaged to Alex, his intended, and yet you wooed me, made me fall in love with you.”

  Creighton pointed at her. “He never cared for ye the way I do. Why, he never prized ye enough to give ye an engagement ring. Ye were never truly his fiancée.”

  What had gotten in his craw? Why was he yelling at her? “Well, I don’t exactly see a diamond ring on my finger now, either, for all your big talk about me being your intended.”

  His eyes widened for a beat. “A diamond? A diamond, is it?” He stormed over to a painting of an old Scottish castle surrounded by trees and hills. With a flick of his wrist, he swung the hinged frame away from the wall and spun the dial on a wall-mounted safe. He depressed the lever and the door opened with the sound of a small click. Inside were files and aged ledgers, jewelry boxes and cash. He reached in and took out a black jeweler’s box. Once he’d slammed the metal door shut again and set the painting to rights, he turned and regarded her.

  “This is the engagement ring me da gave me mum and his da gave his mum before that. ’Twas the ring Broden had designed for Ainsley. Now I’m giving it to ye and asking ye to be me wife.”

  Panic set in. Yes, he’d alluded to marriage a time or two, but she’d attributed it to idle male posturing. But this man she’d met only recently was dead serious. “We don’t know each other that well. We need time to get better acquainted.”

  If possible, he turned surlier. “Aye, leannan, we do know each other. Our souls and our hearts are mated, just as our bodies were earlier today. We belong together. I’ll not allow any man to take ye from me. Never.” He snapped open the lid and an antique ring beckoned. “I’ll cherish ye forever just as three beloved women before ye cherished this ring.”

  The large round diamond encircled by smaller diamonds was set in platinum, its flash warm and brilliant. “You want to give me a family heirloom?” Her gaze snapped from the ring to his face.

  He tugged the ring from its bed of white satin. “Aye, I want to give ye everything I have, and that includes more love than ye can ever imagine.” He took her hand and held the diamond an inch from her finger. “Will ye marry me?”

  This was all happening too fast. Yet it was exactly what she wanted—and how strange, how irresponsible was that? But was marrying her what he truly wanted, or was his macho pride making him territorial where she was concerned? Perhaps he was only laying his claim to flaunt it in Alex’s face when he arrived tomorrow. “You don’t mean it.”

  He shoved the ring back into the box, snapped it shut and slammed it on his desk. His fingers raked through his hair in frustration. A few locks protruded in dark disarray, much like the man’s mood. “Don’t mean it?” His booming voice echoed off the paneled walls. The flames in the fireplace wavered and, God help her, his whole attitude turned her on.

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t think you do. Yes, we’ve fallen in love. We’ve grown close, but for how long? For a month? Six months? A year? How soon before you tire of me or start trying to control me, just like Alex did?”

  With every step he advanced on her, she made one in retreat. If he so much as touched her, she’d sex-destruct. Something about his passionate outrage had her panties damp with desire. I’m in so deep with this guy. I’m in big trouble here.

  “What has changed yer mind about us? Did we not pledge our love upstairs?”

  “Yes, but …” Her gaze dropped. She couldn’t bear to see the pain in his features. Her glasses slid down her nose and she shoved them back in place.

  “Is it Alex? Do ye want him back?” His eyebrows dipped in question.

  Her back hit the door. “No. God, no. After you, there’s no way I’d want him or any other man.” She lifted her palms upward and then let them drop to her sides. “It’s just everything is so sudden and you’re so …”

  One of his arms went around her waist and his other cupped the back of her head. “I’m so what?” His dark eyes bore into hers.

  Her fingers fiddled with the buttons on the oxford shirt he wore with his kilt. “You’re so overpowering. So passionate about everything.” Her hands brushed over his massive chest and foil crinkled when she made contact with his shirt pocket. She traced the shape for an instant before registered. “Do you have condoms in here?”

  “Aye. I’ll not be caught without them again when the mood hits.”

  “I see. Well, it’s a shame you’re in such a Scottish snit then.”

  Those dark eyebrows of his dipped. “Scottish snit?”

  She slid one of the condoms from his shirt pocket and waved it in front of him. “Yes, a surly Scottish snit, because if you were in a better mood I’d show you a special way I could put this rubber on you.” She’d read about it in a book once and hoped the knowledge had stuck. “I wouldn’t even have to use my fingers.”

  His kilt wiggled a bit and started to tent. “And what special way would that be, lov?”

  “With my mouth.” She smiled sweetly and then ran her tongue over her bottom lip in what she hoped was a seductive manner.

  A grunt slipped from his throat. His dark eyes focused on her mouth, and the kilt tent grew big enough for a whole family to camp out in. “Ye seek to kill me.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I seek to soothe your mood, but it would never work with you yelling at me.” Her gaze locked on his. “I won’t be pushed around—verbally or physically.” She’d experienced that kind of treatment with Alex, and was determined not to go through it in this relationship.

  His hand cupped her cheek. “I’m sorry. I …” He shook his head and exhaled a ragged breath before he leaned his forehead against hers. “I’ve never cared fer a woman the way I do ye. Is it possible fer a man to love too much? Desire too much?”

  The insecurity that seeped into his words touched something deep within her. The man was so fierce, so commanding. For him to share his deepest emotions was a precious gift she’d not refuse.

  “No, Creigh, you don’t love too much. I’m insecure about my feelings too. I fear the strength of my love, the suddenness of it. There was never this kind of love for Alex. Never.” She kissed his neck and he nuzzled her in return. “Now, lift your kilt.” She dropped to her knees and tore open the foil packet.

  He quickly tucked the hem of his kilt in its waistband and widened his stance a few inches. The urge to grin was strong. Gram would squeal to learn this Scot wore nothing beneath his kilt. She removed the condom and popped the roun
ded tip in her mouth, curling her lips over her teeth so as not to damage the latex. Wrapping one hand around his cock, she stroked him a couple of times while her other hand cupped and manipulated his balls.

  “Sweet Mother of God,” he groaned.

  She placed her mouth over the head of his cock and, using her lips, slowly rolled the condom onto his engorged shaft. Muttered Gaelic curses reached her ears, and she was quite pleased with her efforts when she stood. “There, you’ve just had Paisley’s famous condom roll.”

  His eyes glowed golden for an instant before he spun her back against the wall. It was as if something she’d said snapped his control. “Famous condom roll?” His roared words circled like a cyclone as his hands bunched her skirt. “Famous, is it? Just how many men have experienced this sensual pleasure?”

  Crap! Maybe I shouldn’t have worded it quite that way.

  “I dinna ken who taught ye that trick, nor do I ken if I want to send him a case of me finest whisky or smash his face. I warned ye I was possessive as fukin’ hell, Paisley.”

  His fingers slipped under her panties, and the sound of lace tearing bounced off the paneled walls of the office. With his hand wrapped around her thigh, he slid it up around his hip. “Now, by God, I mean to show ye.” His lips covered hers, taking control as if madness had overtaken him.

  Her arms wrapped around his massive shoulders and she returned his passion. Desire for him simmered continuously below her surface, ready to ignite at his touch, his kiss, and, yes, his display of possessive longing. Their tongues met and tasted each other’s essence. Tremors of want shimmered through her. Wetness gathered, moistening her for his entry. “Love me, Creigh.”

  “Aye. Till me dying breath.” He slipped his other hand between them and his fingers played with her clit for a few seconds before he positioned his cock and drove into her. His hands grasped her bare bottom, lifting her against the wall. He shifted and angled his hips for deeper penetration. She wrapped her legs around his waist. “Watching ye roll that condom on me like that nearly drove me out of me bloody mind.” He kissed her neck, bit it and soothed it with his tongue.