The Parchment Scroll

by C. A. Szarek

“I’ll no’ have yer threats, MacLeod!” Hugh’s shout rumbled against her back.

  “’Tis a promise, MacDonald.” Hugh’s name was a curse on Duncan’s lips. “If one hair on her head ‘tis harmed.”

  “It’s okay, Duncan. I won’t let him hurt me,” Jules called.

  “I willna harm ye,” Hugh said low in her ear. The warmth of his breath shimmied down her spine and she trembled.

  “I know, Hugh.”

  He grunted, but said nothing, and Jules tried not to get swept away in the feel of his body against hers. She needed to hold onto her anger, not the lust clouding her stupid, stupid, brain.

  “See you soon, big sister! Don’t worry about Bridei, we’ll get her!” Claire waved.

  “I know you will!”

  The MacLeod twins wore matching scowls as they turned their horses from Hugh’s gate. No one spoke as the party rode away, but Duncan kept glaring over his shoulder until there was no way he could see them anymore.

  “Put me down, Hugh.”

  “Nay, lass. Now tha’ I’ve ye back, I’ll no’ let ye go.”

  Jules shivered.

  He hadn’t said ever, but somehow, she still heard it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hugh set Juliette to her feet when they came down the narrow staircase of the embattlement to the dirt ground of the bailey, and he could feel her glare.

  But she’d told her sister—and the MacLeods—she wanted to stay at Armadale.

  With me.

  Was it for the sake of peace alone?

  Juliette whirled on him, hands on her shapely hips. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a captive all over again, huh? ‘Cept this time you’re not trying to ransom me. What do you plan to do?” The fire in those emerald eyes made his cock twitch.

  He stared. “I’ll have ye as my own.”

  “The hell you will.”

  Hugh was aware that his surrounding kinsmen, from soldiers to the blacksmith, even the lasses whacking dust out of rugs, were watching. They’d all stopped their tasks to stare, like they had the first time he’d brought her to Armadale.

  Of course, after the excitement of an armed party of MacLeods and his shouted order to close the gates after riding in at top speed, his peoples’ normal day was ruined, even if they’d mustered energy to return to their duties as soon as Duncan and Alex had retreated.

  Juliette’s accent was odd, to be true, but she was shouting, and there would be no mystery to her ire from the bailey full of MacDonalds. No lass of his clan would dare talk to him as Juliette was.

  Would his people think him weak for allowing it?

  He’d never strike her—or any woman for that matter. Mab had taught him better than that, and after all, his people were long used to his aunt speaking her mind.

  However, he wanted to yank Juliette to him and claim those pouty lips, kiss the frown off her face, and smooth her furrowed brow. Put his tongue in her mouth so she would cease hollering. She was firing his blood. “Juliette—”

  She threw her palms out and slid back when Hugh approached. “Get away from me, Laird MacDonald. I like you even less than I did before, if that’s freakin’ possible. I certainly don’t want you.” Juliette’s voice became even louder as she lectured him on the injustice of her second kidnapping and what she called blackmailing her into staying with him.

  A few of his male cousins snickered. The lasses made no effort to hide their shock. Even his servant girls wore gapes.

  Hugh marched forward, towering over her. “Inside. Now.”

  Juliette paused, scowling. “The commands are already starting?”

  “Please.” He dropped his voice and growled. Hugh hoped no one heard him, but when he averted his gaze and caught Colin’s, his cousin had one dark eyebrow arched.

  She cocked her head to one side. “Why?”

  “So we can speak in private.” Hugh sighed.

  “Private?” Juliette narrowed her eyes.

  Hugh wouldn’t be thwarted anymore. He gripped her upper arm and started walking.

  She wrenched free of his hold before they’d taken two steps. “Don’t touch me!”

  He leaned down, his mouth mere inches above hers, and he tried not to stare at her lips. He reached for the anger inching up from his gut with both hands. “Go. Inside.”

  Juliette huffed and glared right back, but she turned and started walking. She made tight fists and swung her arms at her sides, but her stride was stiff and jerky. Anger flowed off her tense body in waves.

  However, it didn’t keep Hugh’s eyes from watching the sway of her hips or how the fabric of her trews hugged her thighs and roundness of her perfect bottom. He stayed close behind her, but kept his hands to himself—for now. His cock jumped with every forward step she made, especially when she started up the three steps that led to the main entrance of his home.

  “Stop looking at my ass,” Juliette barked.

  He stopped in his tracks—couldn’t help it. Threw his head back and laughed. His lass could read minds.

  She tsked and threw a black look over her shoulder, but didn’t stop her journey into his castle. At least she was listening to him.

  “Just so you know, I won’t let you order me around all the time.”

  “Oh, aye?”

  “Aye.” She mocked him, but he liked the way his word sounded leaving her lips. “If I stay here, it’s as your guest, as Mab said last time. I’m not yours. And I’ll leave when I damn well please.”

  Hugh grabbed her upper arm and turned her to face him as soon as they’d made it into the great hall. Rested his hands on her shoulders and chided himself not to stare at her breasts. They sat high in her corset, baring too much flesh not too be tempted. The ivory leine beneath it was wide necked, low cut, showing her collarbone. “Ye’ll do as I say, guest or no’.”

  “I will not. Hugh, I’m not here forever. I’m going home. To the future. As soon as you promise to play nice with my sister’s clan. They have bigger things to worry about than you right now.”

  His heart dropped to his stomach, but he tried to ignore the thought of losing her—permanently. This was just about having her, right? The rest mattered not. “The MacLeods have nothin’ to fear from me, or any MacDonald.”

  “Then let me go.”

  “Nay.”

  “Hugh—”

  “I’ll have ye, Juliette. I’ve though’ of nothin’ else since ye left me.”

  A shiver racked her frame. He felt it beneath his palms. She swallowed and Hugh restrained himself from kissing her. “Then what?” she whispered.

  He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. When Juliette didn’t scoot away as expected, Hugh tugged her to him and took her mouth properly. He pinned her to his chest and forced her mouth open, but like before, she kissed him back.

  Hugh slid his hands down the stiff material covering her back and kept going, cupping and squeezing her perfect bottom with both hands. He lifted her, rocking his pelvis into hers.

  She yanked away all too soon, her scowl back in place. “No, Hugh.” Juliette put her hand up. Her face was flushed and she panted, her perfect breasts heaving in that corset. She might be denying him with words, but her body wasn’t.

  One look at her kiss-swollen lips made Hugh bite back a groan. He was already hard and aching. He had to have her.

  “We’ll speak in my rooms.” He pushed words out, but had to clear his throat. His voice was thick, desire evident even to his own ears.

  They’d do more than speak. He just had to convince her.

  Like he’d told her before, Hugh wouldn’t take Juliette by force, but her shaking form said he wouldn’t have to.

  He grabbed her waist and hauled her close again, then swung her up over his shoulder without another word.

  She yelped, hollered, and struggled, but she didn’t try to kick or punch him like she had before.

  Hugh hurried his step. He’d not want to gain his aunt’s attention. As it was, he was lucky she hadn’t stormed the
bailey when the MacLeods had been at the gate.

  Obviously word hadn’t traveled its usual speed at Armadale. He had no doubt Mab would pound his doors down when she heard Juliette was here, but Hugh would deal with it then.

  Now is for Juliette.

  “Put me down!”

  He didn’t follow her order until they were shut inside his quarters.

  “You can’t just pick me up and carry me off every time we disagree!” Juliette’s exasperation leaked into more than her voice. She threw her arms wide and paced.

  “Why no’?”

  “Really?” She froze with that one word, a fair eyebrow arched.

  His Juliette was gorgeous, and he enjoyed her temper. He closed the distance between them and reached for her.

  “No. Not again. Don’t you dare put your hands on me.” His little lass’s glare could have slain him on the spot.

  Hugh flashed a lazy grin and twirled one of her honey-colored locks around his finger. “Ye certainly liked my hands on ye a ’fore. Just now. In mine own great hall.”

  Juliette scowled. She put both hands to his chest and shoved.

  He planted his booted feet and didn’t move an inch.

  Their gazes collided. Her mouth parted and Hugh’s cock twitched. His trek up the stairs with his lass over his shoulder had done nothing to alleviate the heavy ache in his groin. He swallowed a groan and yanked her to him.

  Hugh dipped his head down, claiming her mouth and muffling her yelp.

  Instead of fighting him, Juliette slipped her arms around his neck. She opened for him, whimpering as she kissed him back.

  This is different from the kiss in the great hall.

  It was more. She was fully with him this time.

  Triumph shot down his spine. He lifted her into his arms and kissed her harder, squeezing her rear end as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He damned her trews to hell and back. Had she been wearing skirts, he’d already have his hands on her bare flesh.

  She fired him in ways no other woman ever had. His cock was hard and pulsing, demanding freedom so he could slip inside her sweet body.

  Hugh had missed her over the last three days. Thought of nothing but his foundling, his Juliette. And doing this. “Jesu, lass,” he breathed into her mouth.

  Juliette moaned and tilted her head back. He answered her silent request and set a line of kisses on her neck, nipped her earlobe and she wiggled against him.

  “Hugh,” she breathed.

  Her body was wrapped around his, her softness hitting his hardness in all the right places. But they had too many clothes on.

  “I willna take ye by force, lass. But by God, I burn fer ye.”

  She whimpered.

  He kissed her again, because he couldn’t not plunder her sweetness. Their tongues dueled. Juliette was kissing him back just as fiercely as he pressed his lips to hers. Hugh slanted his mouth over hers again and again.

  His limbs shook, but he held onto her as tightly as she was holding on to him.

  Hugh needed more.

  So much more.

  * * * *

  He slammed her against the wall. Breath rushed from her lungs and she had to pant, but Jules didn’t give a shit.

  Denial denial denial.

  It all slid out the window.

  Her need—of him—smacked into her, combusting her from the inside out. She might not have admitted to Hugh she wanted him, but her body was shouting it.

  What the hell are you doing?

  He kidnapped you again!

  Jules shoved it all away, and kissed him harder when he dipped his head down again. Maybe she didn’t really give a shit about all that. She’d been thinking of him, ranting about him for three days—hell, obsessing about him as Claire had accused.

  She was attracted to him.

  Wanted him.

  No. It’s more than that.

  Maybe it had been from the start.

  Hugh groaned and pitched his hips into Jules’ pelvis. He was already hard. She could feel him. Too bad they had clothes on.

  He bit her bottom lip. The sting made her moan as he licked and sucked it away, devouring her as she explored his mouth and he plundered hers.

  Jules tugged his hair and arched into his chest. They both made noises that were lost in the movement of their fused mouths.

  His kiss was rough and relentless. Raw, just like Hugh—and left her needing more.

  When he started to thrust, she whimpered. The cool stone at her back and the heat of his chest against her corset-covered breasts was not enough. “Hugh,” Jules begged. “More.” She ripped at his tunic. “No clothes.”

  He growled and nipped her neck, laying a line of hot kisses down to her collarbone that left her trembling in their wake.

  Her insides quivered. She bit her bottom lip to stave off another whimper.

  Hugh reared back, his gaze raking her face. His dark eyes bored into her. “Ye want this, lass? Wan’ me?”

  “Yes.” A breathless moan. It was all she could manage.

  He stepped back so fast she almost fell into a heap. Her legs shook and she leaned into the wall to stay upright.

  “Undress.” The order should’ve irked, but it only made her sex ache.

  Jules licked her lips and kicked off her borrowed deerskin boots. She pushed the breeches Claire had given her from her hips. They landed on the stone floor soundlessly, and her sister’s idea of home-sewn panties was next.

  Tremors of anticipation shot down her spine when she looked at her barbarian across the room. Hugh wore naked well, and she didn’t know where to look first. She’d already known his chest was beautiful with its sparse dark hair and defined lines. His shoulders were broad and his waist was just the right amount of tapered. His ass was perfection and she wanted to grab it while he thrust deep inside her.

  She whimpered as her eyes trailed his body. His erection jutted in all its glory and his thighs were thick. Dark hair was sprinkled down to his ankles, and her hands itched to trace it, rub the firm muscles of his calves with her feet when they were entwined.

  Jules couldn’t wait to be up against all that. He was gorgeous—and he was about to be hers.

  “Yer no’ naked,” he growled.

  Her heart and stomach jumped at the same time. “I’m trying.” The corset proved a challenge to her shaky fingers, but Hugh crossed the room in two strides, knocked her fingers out of the way and finished the job himself.

  He tossed the stiff garment across the room as if it offended, and whipped her leine up and off before Jules could even appreciate the fact she could breathe freely again.

  Hugh made no secret of looking up and down her body and she tingled, as if he’d caressed her. His growl of appreciation made her melt, and Jules moaned.

  His dark eyes zoned in on her face. They were black with desire. His cheeks were flushed pink, and his lips swollen from hers. His long hair was mussed from her hands, and she couldn’t wait to get her fingers there to mess it up even more.

  Jules wanted him even more.

  She yelped when he lifted her over his shoulder but she held on and let him carry her to his big bed. Again her breath was stolen when he tossed her—actually tossed—her to the center of the MacDonald tartan blanket, but for the first time, she didn’t give a damn he was manhandling her.

  Hugh wasted no time following her down, covering her body and taking her mouth again. He dragged his hands down her breasts, leaving her nipples hard and aching. He continued downward as their tongues danced, teasing her stomach muscles and rubbing her lower belly.

  She gasped into his kiss when he dived between her legs, tugging on her clit and sliding his finger inside her without preamble.

  “Wet. For me,” he groaned.

  Jules didn’t get a chance to answer him.

  He thrust his erection inside her, filling her with one hard stroke.

  She threw her head back and called his name, clutching his thick shoulders with both hands. He was perfect, stret
ching her, making her burn for him to move.

  Hugh kissed her throat and tipped his hips forward, pausing to give her a moment to adjust to him. “Tight. Lass, yer goin’ ta kill me.” His voice was strained and their eyes locked.

  Her heart skipped. “It’s been a while for me,” she blurted. Heat burned her neck.

  Why did you say that, idiot?

  His dark gaze intensified and Hugh squeezed her against his chest. “Mine.” He growled the word into her mouth and plunged even deeper.

  Jules whimpered and returned his kiss, wrapping her legs around his waist as he started to thrust in earnest. He was rough, took her harder each time he propelled forward, and she loved every moment of it.

  It was Hugh unbridled, no control, and she had done this to him.

  She moved with him, under him, raking her nails down his shoulders, which only seemed to encourage him.

  He groaned, going faster, but he kept kissing her, and Jules couldn’t stop touching him. His back, his ass, kneading and squeezing as he drove in and out of her.

  They were covered in sweat and panting but she didn’t care.

  Never wanted it to end.

  Her body tightened and she crushed her eyes shut. Jules’ inner thighs quivered. She threw her head back into his pillow and screamed his name as orgasm crashed over her. Her vision wavered and her head spun. It was hard and fast, and stole her breath as pleasure shot over her body.

  Hugh grunted and stilled, but he tugged against Jules’ hold. She was dazed as her hands and arms loosened and he straightened above her, pulling out of her body.

  Confusion washed over her, clearing her head a bit, as she watched Hugh lean back, palm his erection and close his eyes.

  He pumped once. His release shot out, over his hands and onto her stomach.

  Jules watched, half insulted, half relieved. Realization hit her that they’d just had sex without a condom, and her birth control pills were in the far future—and it’d been almost a week since she’d had one.

  She should thank Hugh for not coming inside her.

  So why did it prick a bit?

  Are my feelings hurt?

  Their gazes collided. He said nothing as he left the bed. He came back with a scrap of linen, silent as he wiped her down. Hugh cleaned himself as well, then he returned to her, wrapping Jules in his arms and kissing her into oblivion, scattering whatever she might’ve said to him.