Wicked Highland Wishes (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 2)

by Julie Johnstone

  Helena made the words sound so horrid. Shame rolled over Bridgette, followed swiftly by terror. Was this how the seer’s prediction began?

  “Graham,” she sobbed, turning to him.

  Fear struck deep in her heart as he charged into Lachlan, causing him to release his grip on Helena as both brothers barreled to the ground. They rolled in a blur of fists flashing in strikes, and the accompanying sounds of bone crashing into bone made her stomach clench as she raced forward, angry that neither Iain nor Alex made a move to stop the fight. The king had taken hold of Helena and was dragging her away toward another of his guards, and Marion cried for Lachlan or Graham to show reason, but the brutal fight continued.

  This was it! The seer’s prediction had started. Fear nearly choked Bridgette, but she shoved it away and shouted at her brother and Iain. “Why are ye nae stopping them?” she demanded, rushing forward to try to do so herself, only to be halted by Alex and Iain both putting out their arms.

  Iain spoke first. “’Twas inevitable, I’m afraid.”

  Alex nodded. “Aye. Best to let Graham get some of his anger out if he can, so he dunnae hate Lachlan as much.”

  “Aye,” Iain agreed.

  As the men rolled once more, Lachlan came to his knees with Graham in a headlock. She bit her lip to hold in her cry at the blood smearing both their faces.

  “Release me, ye swine,” Graham roared. He kicked his feet and drove them into the ground to gain power. When he cried out in pain, Lachlan dragged himself and Graham to a stand and let him go.

  “Listen to me, Graham,” Lachlan begged. The torment in his voice made Bridgette tremble. His pain and his anguish were hers, too. She had to help him.

  “Graham,” she called out. “Please dunnae turn Lachlan away. It’s nae his fault.”

  Graham jerked his head in her direction, then back to Lachlan, anger twisting his features. “Even now, she pleads for ye. Are ye happy? Ye seduced her!”

  “Nay,” Lachlan vowed. “I tried nae to even acknowledge how I felt.”

  “Ye seduced her, and ye dunnae even care for her!”

  “I do, brother,” Lachlan replied, his tone quiet and pained.

  Bridgette’s breath caught. She had known Lachlan cared for her, but to hear him admit it in front of others filled her with wonder.

  “Ye’re nae my brother any longer!” Graham declared. “From this day forward, ye are dead to me. Dunnae dare to call me brother. We are enemies.”

  Apprehension over the seer’s prophecy swiftly clouded Bridgette’s wonder.

  “Graham!” Iain snapped out the one word with the force of a well-placed hit.

  Graham dragged his gaze to Iain. “He’s nae my brother.”

  “He is,” Iain countered. “Let yer anger abate. We’ll discuss this later.”

  “He stole Bridgette from me,” Graham growled, staggering away from Lachlan. “My hatred for him will nae abate, whether ye wish it or nae. Whether ye command it or nae.”

  Graham stalked around Iain, who was farthest from Bridgette. She rushed to him and placed a hand on his arm. “Please, Graham. I’m sorry.”

  Graham shook her off. “I dunnae want yer pity. I wanted ye. For as long as I can recall, I wanted ye.”

  “Wanting me is nae loving me,” she said gently.

  His eyes widened, but then a scowl crossed his face. “He dunnae love ye,” Graham growled and motioned to Lachlan. “He just wished to best me as he always has.” With those final words, Graham stormed off.

  Marion rushed to Bridgette and hugged her, and Iain came to stand by his wife and take her by the elbow. “I must speak with the king.”

  Marion nodded. “I’ll come with ye back to the castle.” She tilted her head to Bridgette. “To give ye a private moment. But if ye wish me to stay…”

  Bridgette shook her head, not daring to look Lachlan’s way. She feared he saw what she did: the seer’s prediction unfolding. She did not want an audience to her sorrow.

  Marion patted her arm and left with Iain, leaving only Lachlan, Alex, and Bridgette.

  “Come find me in the great hall when ye are done,” Alex said. “We’ve much to discuss.”

  Bridgette turned to respond, certain her brother was talking to her, but Lachlan—whose back was to her—was nodding at Alex as her brother walked away.

  Lachlan slowly faced her, and their gazes locked. Her breath caught deep in her chest at the look he gave her. It was raw and primal and said, Mine. She could not breathe. Her throat tightened, heat consumed her, and her heart roared in her ears, making them ring. God’s bones, she wanted to fling herself into his arms, but the seer’s prediction swirled in her head, a dark and deadly warning: As for the other brother, jealousy will drive him to his death, whereupon vengeance shall resurrect him.

  She knew now which part of the seer’s prediction was about Graham. His jealousy over Lachlan and her would drive him to his death and he’d be resurrected for vengeance? In memory only? Would it be Lachlan trying to avenge Graham’s death?

  “God’s teeth!” she moaned. “Ye ken as well as I do that the seer’s prediction has begun! How can we be together?”

  “Because we kinnae stay apart,” he said simply.

  Fifteen

  He understood the fear in her eyes, and he loved her all the more for it.

  Love.

  The knowledge hit him hard, and his body trembled with the realization. What was between them was love. She had taken his heart like a warrior princess. She had laid siege to him and he’d not even realized what was happening. He was hers completely. There was no way to deny it.

  Lachlan saw the moment she recognized what he felt. Bridgette’s eyes widened, her lush lips parted, and her chest rose with a quick intake of breath. His heart beat like a drum within him.

  She shook her head. “We kinnae!” He took a step toward her, and she scuttled back. “The seer’s prophecy!” she protested, her voice shaking.

  He closed the distance and claimed her mouth, silencing any other protest. She was hot and sweet and brought his lust for her, which constantly simmered inside him, to a roaring inferno. Their tongues touched and tangled, and a deep moan escaped his throat. He wanted to possess every part of her, yet he knew words needed to be said. He forced himself to break the kiss but kept his arms locked around her back. She glanced up at him, her lips red and swollen and her bright-green gaze a bit dazed.

  She raised her hand to his face, and he realized she had the edge of her gown grasped in her hand. He stood still and allowed her to wipe away the blood that must have been smeared upon his face. Her hand trembled slightly, and unshed tears filled her eyes. His heart twisted in his chest at her pain, and his and Graham’s, too. He understood how she felt because he felt the same way, but he had to make her understand what he now knew.

  He caught her raised hand in his and then grasped the one by her side. He brought them to his chest and held them against his heart. “We have tried to deny how we feel about each other, and that did nae work. Then we tried to hide it, and it has been revealed in spite of it all. Graham may never accept us,” Lachlan admitted. “I think I only just kenned the truth of that when he told me he hated me and I saw the enormity of the jealousy that drives him. He dunnae want ye because he loves ye; he wants ye to spite me.”

  “Perchance,” she said in a begrudging whisper, “but if we rush this, that is perchance what will make the seer’s prophecy come true to its terrible end!”

  The seer’s prediction weighed heavy on Lachlan’s mind, as well, though he was loath to confess it. “I love my brother, and I dunnae want to hurt him. It pains me that I have. And I’ll go as slow as ye wish, but, lass, I love ye.”

  She gaped at him for a long moment, then finally spoke. “Ye love me?”

  “Aye.” His voice, which was normally strong and true, trembled. He didn’t care. “I dunnae want to live without ye. I dunnae want to live another moment fearing ye may become another’s.”

  “I dunnae
want that, either, but we kinnae simply feign the prophecy dunnae exist. Even if the king gives us consent to marry—” She blushed. “Though ye have nae asked me, I believe we must wait for a time. Perchance that will be the choice that changes the future.”

  He wanted to argue with her. With a fight for David’s throne likely brewing between David and Robert and the Campbells most assuredly aligning themselves against David and, therefore, Lachlan’s clan—not to mention his uncle likely being somehow embroiled in a plot—he did not wish to wait and allow Bridgette to be without the protection of being his wife. He understood many men who were against the king would seek to gain her brother’s allegiance through marriage, even if they had to take Bridgette by force. Those men would be fools, as Alex would never ally himself with someone who took his sister against her will, but the damage to Bridgette would be done all the same. He shuddered at the thought, but the stark worry and stubborn tilt of her chin told him he’d not win the argument of marrying with haste this day.

  He pulled her to his chest once more and buried his face in her lovely hair. “The king knows of my desire for ye and has left it to be settled between me and Graham.” He felt Bridgette sag against him in relief. He cupped her chin and lifted her face to his. “Do ye love me, too?” He needed to hear the words from her mouth.

  She twined her arms around his neck. “Oh, aye. I love ye, and ye ken it, ye devil. That one word is nae strong enough to express how I feel.” She took his hand and spread his palm flat against her chest. Underneath his fingertips, her heart pounded. Their gazes met, and she pressed her hand to his. “Mo chridhe.”

  “Yer heart,” he repeated. He was her heart. “Aye, and ye are mine, m’eudail.”

  She smiled. “I like hearing ye call me yer darling.”

  He slid his hands into her hair and kissed her hard on the mouth, then more gently until she was whimpering into him. He pulled away and kissed each of her eyelids. “M’eudail.” Then he brushed his lips to her forehead, nose, and each cheek. He pressed his lips to the slope of her neck where her pulse beat. “M’eudail,” he whispered again.

  Yearning hummed in his ears, head, and blood. His breath became ragged as he slid his hands to her waist and made himself pull away.

  She surprised him by catching him by the hand. “I dunnae wish ye to stop. I wish ye to make me yers.”

  “Ye were mine the day I first kissed ye, lass. It was simply that neither of us kenned it yet.”

  The lustful look she gave him made him ache with need. She interlaced her hand with his. “I kenned it. There was never another man for me after that day. My words just now were nae clear. I wish ye to join with me now, so that we may be as one.”

  Desire mingled with surprise, but God’s bones, he wanted her. “Do ye nae wish to wait until we are married?”

  She shook her head. “I dunnae wish to wait one more breath.”

  Sixteen

  Bridgette trembled as Lachlan stood before her in the lush grass in the patch of thick trees away from the castle. Her shaking was not from fear but anticipation. She had dreamed of this many times, and it was hard to believe it was happening. In this moment, all was perfect and she refused to allow anything to ruin it.

  His heated gaze caught hers. “Ye’re certain of this?”

  She nodded as she sat on his plaid, which he had laid out. He still did not look convinced, so she rose up on her knees and ran her palms over the rock-hard length of his well-muscled thighs. He stood with his legs slightly spread, and feeling his power under her fingertips made her belly flutter.

  “I’m verra certain.” And before he could share any more concerns on her behalf, she tried to think of everything he might say and answer it. “It dunnae fash me that we are in the grass.” She patted it. “It’s verra soft, especially on yer plaid.”

  His lips curled up in amusement. “Ye ken, ye truly do think more like a man than a lass.”

  “I ken. Do ye mind that?”

  “I love that,” he assured her as he removed his remaining garments.

  She’d seen him bare chested before, but it never failed to hit her like a blow when she glimpsed the raw beauty of his body. His broad chest looked like chiseled rock that led to a stomach of corded muscle. She allowed her gaze to roam lower, and her pulse raced at the sight of his manhood. She had expected him to be big, considering his overall size, but he was very big.

  Fear sprang up in her belly. She knew he’d be gentle and take care, but what if it hurt and she disappointed him?

  A lock of her hair hung like a veil over the right side of her face, and he tucked it behind her ear. He stared into her eyes as he settled beside her on his plaid, then deftly removed all her clothes. She’d never been shy about her body, but she’d never lain naked before a man. Her arms drew up automatically to cover her breasts, but he stopped her and settled her hands at her sides. He gently laid her back and brushed her hair away from her face, and then he rose onto his haunches and stared at her.

  “What are ye doing?” she finally asked, when he had not spoken for a long moment.

  “I am drinking ye in, m’eudail. Ye are the most beautiful thing God has ever created, and I wish to memorize every curve, swell, dip, and shadow.” He swept a finger over the bridge of her nose, followed by each cheek, while giving her a distinctly lustful look that caused her belly to tighten. “I forgot yer wee lovely brown spots.” He proceeded to brush delicate kisses all over her face, making her shiver.

  She tingled everywhere from the contact of his lips and the heat of his body hovering over hers. Unable to resist touching him back, she ran her hands up his arms, pausing briefly over the knotted muscles straining against his skin as he supported his weight. He lowered himself farther, not putting his weight on her but allowing his chest to rub ever so slightly against hers. Her nipples immediately hardened, and her breasts swelled with an aching need from the brush of his body against hers.

  His gaze caught hers once more but then lowered slowly to her breasts, then lower still before sweeping back up to her face. The smoldering flames in his eyes excited her, but the love burning there unlocked her body and soul. An arrogant smile suddenly curved his lips as if he knew he had her completely at his mercy. He lowered his head to her breast, and she expected more feathery kisses. Instead, he swirled his tongue around her aching bud, the silky slide of his tongue ripping a scream of surprise and pleasure from her.

  Heat pooled between her legs, and a pulsing began there. Little by little he built up the heat within her every time he ran his tongue over her bud until she did not think she could take any more. She raked her hands up his body, not stopping until she slid her fingers over his neck and into his hair. She pushed his mouth more firmly over her breast in a silent entreaty. A low chuckle came from him, but he answered her plea without hesitation. His mouth pulled on her swollen bud, sending currents of desire through her.

  His hand, which had been cupping her breast, moved in a searing path down her abdomen to her thigh. She parted her legs, eager for his touch, and when it came, the pleasure was like nothing she had ever known. She writhed beneath him, grasping at his broad back while trying to force something she was not quite certain of from him.

  His fingers moved deftly over her sex, massaging and circling until she knew she would go senseless. “Lachlan, please. Please,” she begged.

  “Soon, m’eudail,” he promised, his voice rough and low. His fingers began to move faster until everything inside her tightened. She dug her nails into his back.

  “Lachlan!”

  His fingers suddenly left her and her body roared a protest, but just as quickly as his touch disappeared, he came to her once more with his mouth. The pleasure she had felt moments before dulled in comparison to the painful bliss caused by his hot mouth suckling her aching swollen sex. His tongue explored and teased until the need pounded through her and then exploded.

  Lachlan rose swiftly to his knees, gripped her hips, and drove into her. The pinch of pai
n made her hesitate for a moment before another wave of pleasure rolled over her as her body adjusted to accommodate him. He filled her completely as he slid slowly in and out of her, and her body clamped tightly around his, making her head spin, the very world around her spin.

  Together, their bound bodies found a rhythm, and they rode it—hot, slick flesh against hot, slick flesh—until all she could do was cling to him and moan. The searing need that had been building forever raced through her like a fire that he extinguished with a final push and a guttural cry. Her body shook with the release, even as Lachlan’s grip increased and he let out a groan with his own need met. He shuddered and lifted her hips higher, sending him deeper into her than she imagined possible. When he moved closer to her, his rough chest brushed against her sensitive nipples once more. Still as one, he rolled her over him until she lay flat against his chest and he lay on his back.

  Their hearts pounded together as they silently held each other’s gazes. The heat of his body coursed down the length of hers to warm her, and soon, she could not keep her eyes open any longer. She laid her head against his chest, and his hand reached up to stroke her hair as he whispered his love to her. She felt full in every way possible, and her last thought before sleep claimed her was a prayer that their happiness would last and that their caution would change the seer’s prediction.

  Lachlan watched Bridgette sleep until the sun had nearly fled the sky. He was loath to wake her and return to the castle, but he knew they must do so, whether they wanted to or not. He had a duty to his family and his clan—most especially to Graham—and now he had a duty to Bridgette, as well. He considered her his most sacred responsibility. He loved her as if she were already his wife. She had given him the gift of her heart, body, and soul. He would protect her no matter how great the sacrifice—even if it meant Graham would never forgive him.