A Highland Knight's Desire (A Highland Dynasty Book)

by Amy Jarecki

  When she opened her eyes, he was hovering over her, his manhood jutting from his loins like a jouster’s lance. He desired her as a woman, and she’d never in her life craved a man to take her. Trembling, she reached down to grasp him, but he slid back on his haunches, just beyond her fingers. For an instant, Meg feared he didn’t want her, until a sly grin spread across his lips. Dipping his chin, with one lap, he licked her—swiped his glorious tongue over her smoldering sex.

  Meg collapsed against the pillows with a shudder. Duncan licked again, then swirled his tongue over her flesh. Unable to control her increasing sighs, she threaded her fingers through his hair, giving in to the urge to thrust her hips. The pressure deep within her body coiled tighter. Stars crossed her vision. A stunned gasp ripped through her throat and the world around her exploded in a maelstrom of pulsing euphoria.

  When finally her breathing returned to normal, Meg opened her eyes. Duncan knelt over her, smiling. Brilliant white teeth contrasted with the dark shadow of his beard. He was still erect. Was he waiting for her to do something? Simply looking at his manhood filled her with renewed desire. She brushed her fingers over it. “I want you to show me how a man breeds.”

  Duncan emitted a savage growl. “I want you more than life itself.” His eyes appeared glassy with the flickering of the candlelight. Slowly, his body skimmed up hers as he fluttered kisses along the way. “Your beauty surpasses that of all other women.”

  Meg had no recourse but to accept his words. She molded to him like clay to a potter’s fingers. His manhood brushed her cleft, and her need became dire yet again.

  Nuzzling into her neck, Duncan mumbled. Meg couldn’t make out his words, but it didn’t matter. Careful not to place her hand on his wound, she grasped his hip and encouraged him. She stopped tugging when his manhood stretched her insides to the point of tearing. But Duncan didn’t stop. Slowly, he slid inside her. Meg’s insides yielded with a sting, yet the exhilaration of their joining sent her body into a whirlwind of frenzy.

  When Duncan stopped, she held very still, reveling in the sensation of being completely filled. As he started to rock his hips, the pinch didn’t hurt quite as badly. Speeding the pace, Meg grasped him, while moisture soothed the burn. She needed him to move faster, and dictated the tempo with her hand. Without speaking, Duncan seemed to know exactly what her body craved.

  Tension built. Her thighs shuddered around him. More . . . she had to have more of him. Duncan emitted a deep grunt, thrusting faster. Meg tossed her head from side to side, whimpering through her ecstasy. With another sudden surge, she mounted the pinnacle of passion as if she were flying, and with one glorious burst, Meg came undone around him.

  His eyes wild, unfocused, Duncan bellowed loudly and pulled from her. His entire body shuddered as his seed spurted across her belly. His eyes rolled back with a satisfied exhale. “My God, you are an angel from heaven.”

  He reached for the cloth that had been on his forehead and cleansed her stomach. Wiped his seed from her. Meg caressed his cheek. Yes, it was best for him to spill his seed outside her womb. A bastard would bring ruination to her family, and though she relished the thought of bearing Duncan’s child, she would never wish for her family to be harmed by her actions.

  Duncan rolled to his side and reached out his arm. “Come here.”

  She crawled over to him and sank into his warm embrace, their bodies spooning as if it were the most natural thing in the world. In a heartbeat, Duncan’s heavy breathing resumed. Again, he was fast asleep. Meg closed her eyes and cherished his closeness. Had she been wrong to seduce him when he was fevered? Perhaps, yet she would remember this night for the rest of her days. God had brought Duncan Campbell into her life for a reason, and she was quite certain it was to show her what could be between a man and a woman. She would never speak of this to another soul.

  Duncan nuzzled into the sweetest smelling mane of silken hair, thinking he’d gone to heaven. His dream had been so vivid. Finally, he’d given in to his desires and made love to Lady Meg. All of his prior fantasies about the lass paled in comparison. A man could live a contented life in Meg’s arms.

  He nestled into the bed. Something soft and warm moved against him and emitted a satiated moan.

  He wasn’t in heaven, nor had he been dreaming. He was in his bedchamber. How the hell he’d arrived there, he had absolutely no idea.

  Duncan opened his eyes. Meg curled her body against him, her hair shrouding his face. He rose up on his elbow and regarded her lovely face. Had last eve really happened? He cast his gaze down past the sleek curve of her hip. Heaven help him, her skirts were hiked up to her milky white thighs.

  He jolted. Aside from his shirt, not a stitch of clothing covered him either.

  What have I done?

  His heart stuttered. He’d made a pact with himself never to stay the night in a woman’s arms. But then circumstances had been a tad out of his control. He inhaled. Good God, she smelled like a valley of wildflowers. His cock thrummed. He slid his hips away from Meg’s delicious bottom. How was he going to ferret himself out of this? He’d just ruined the daughter of an earl. As soon as Arthur Douglas discovered what had happened, he’d not only withhold payment, he’d string Duncan up by the cods.

  He reached down the bed, grasped the plaid, wrapped it around his waist and staggered to the privy closet. His head swam like he’d had too much whisky—or had been bludgeoned. Duncan had no clue which. How had they come to Kilchurn? The last thing he remembered, the ship docked at Dunstaffnage Castle and he was about to arrange to borrow a pair of horses.

  He sat to relieve himself, and a sharp pain shot up his backside. He leaned away from the ache. Bloody hell. Had he succumbed to a wounded arse? I’ll be the butt-end of my men’s jests from now to eternity.

  After wiping his hands on a cloth, he reached for a pot of mint leaves. He popped one in his mouth and chewed. Though refreshing, it did nothing to satisfy his hunger. When he opened the door, Meg stood inches away, eyes wide as silver coins. “You’re up?”

  “Aye.” He held out the pot. “Mint?”

  She snatched a dried leaf and popped it into her mouth. “Straight back to bed with you.”

  “What are you on about, ordering me to the bed? My stomach’s growling like a starved dog.”

  “You’ve been unconscious with the sweat. I can request some porridge for you, but you are too weak to be up and about.”

  Duncan gestured to his legs. “I’m standing, am I not?”

  Meg’s cheeks flushed scarlet, and she stamped her foot with infuriated gusto. “You were on death’s doorstep b-but hours ago.”

  She looked adorable when she got worked up. “Aye?” He tugged her into his arms and smothered her minty mouth. His mind blanked. Sensuous woman crushed against his body, supple breasts, wanton hips. He kneaded his fingers down her spine and growled into her ear. “The things you do to me are wicked. I cannot keep my hands from you.”

  “Truly?” Her voice was breathless. “Do you remember what . . . what happened between us?”

  Aye, he remembered every delectable moment. Worse, he’d also had enough presence of mind to know he shouldn’t have ravished her. “Forgive me. I had no right.”

  “As I understand it, I was the one taking advantage of you, given your fevered state.”

  In no way would he allow her to take the blame for his actions. “I assure you I was conscious, and I shouldn’t have allowed it to happen.”

  Meg backed away, clapping a hand over her mouth. “I knew you didn’t want me. Not really.” She turned and dashed to the sideboard.

  “I didn’t mean it like that, lass.” He limped toward her. “Your brother will have my hide.”

  “Is that what you care about?” She kept her back to him. “There’s no need for Arthur to know, or anyone else, for that matter.”

  So she wanted to keep it quiet, just as he did? Duncan liked the feisty lady more and more. “I do care about you . . . deeply.” He sauntered up be
hind her and smoothed his hands over her hips. He leaned forward and buried his face in her wild locks. “You drive me mad with longing.”

  She sighed and leaned against him. “The hourglass has long lost its sand. I must tend your wound, then I’ll fetch you some food.”

  He nuzzled her neck. “We could both go back to bed and forget about the salve.”

  She scooted away from his grasp. “Your father trusted me to tend you.” She faced him with a fiery spark to her eye. “Now haste ye to the bed afore I’m forced to call the guard.”

  Duncan groaned and plodded across the floor. “I’m all right now, lass.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that, as will the healer when she returns.”

  A sharp pain stabbed Duncan’s backside as he dropped the plaid and climbed onto the bed with his back to her. “What happened after we alighted from the galley? I cannot recall a single thing until I awoke with your blessed body in my arms.”

  “You were unconscious the whole time. Fevered, too.” Meg gasped so loudly, he thought she’d cut herself.

  Spinning, Duncan leaped off the bed and wrapped his arms around her. “What happened?”

  “You . . . ah . . .” Her eyes drifted to the plaid he’d dropped. “Your bottom is bare, Sir Duncan.”

  “We’re back to formalities now, are we?” Duncan hugged her to his chest and laughed. “I thought your ladyship wanted to tend my bum.”

  “But the whole time you’ve had the plaid draped across your waist. Except when . . .”

  “Would you prefer it if I covered up?”

  Her gaze languidly swept down his body while she chewed her bottom lip.

  He could take no more. He lifted her chin with the crux of his finger. Slowly and ever so gently, he kissed her. He wanted to draw it out, savor her, show the lady exactly how much he desired her.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, Meg melted into him. She sighed, and her eyes fluttered closed as she responded to his swirling tongue, sucking, teasing. Duncan could feel no pain with Meg in his embrace. The fever returned to his body tenfold, except this time he could have won a sparring match with an arm tied behind his back. Never in his life had he felt a yearning so powerful as the need shooting through the tip of his cock. “God help me, I want to feel your center swallow me again.”

  Clutching him tighter, she wrapped her leg around his hip and pushed into him. She wanted this as much as he. Duncan didn’t understand it. When it came to women, he could usually exercise self-control, but when it came to Meg, he was powerless. He didn’t even know if he could make it to the bed. Hiking up her skirts, he backed her to the wall. It was closer.

  The door opened. Duncan snapped his head up. John quickly slipped inside and shut it. “Unhand Lady Meg this instant.”

  Stunned, Duncan took one step away. “Leave us, John.”

  “’Tis all right, Sir John, I was just about to see to Sir Duncan’s wounds.” Meg’s voice had a high-pitched tremor, as if she’d swallowed a bird’s whistle.

  John bent down and picked up the plaid. “’Tis not how it appears. You’re fortunate I came in when I did.”

  Meg blushed three times the shade of scarlet by the privy closet.

  Duncan snatched the plaid from John’s grasp and wrapped it around his waist. “Lady Meg needs to apply my ointment and then we shall break our fast.”

  John frowned, looking at the jar of ointment on the bedside table. “I’ll do it. I’m sure the lady is in need of rest after tending you all night and fending off your advances just now.”

  Duncan stole a look at Meg. She cast her gaze to the floor so fast, he had no chance to smile at her. John could be such a law-abiding arse at times. She sidled toward the door. “I daresay I am tired and hungry.” Her hand yanked down on the latch. “I shall request a tray brought up. You should still be abed, Sir Duncan.”

  Before he could say a word, she slipped out and closed the door.

  John glared. “What the blazes do you think you were doing with the Earl of Angus’s sister?”

  Duncan stepped into his brother. “’Tis not what you think.”

  “No? Bare-arsed, you had her up against the wall, lifting her skirts. I should see you flogged.”

  Duncan took in a deep breath, making his chest jut out. “Aye, brother? It seems I’ve inherited the cods in this family.”

  John raised his fists. “If you weren’t but one step from your sickbed, I’d lay you flat.”

  Rage gripped Duncan’s gut. No one threatened him, especially not his little brother. Lowering his head, he barreled into John. Careening through the air, their flight jarred to a stop with a thud on the floorboards. Duncan threw a fist into John’s jaw. The weasel squirmed out from under him and pulled his bloody dirk. “Put your feeble arse in the bed afore I’m forced to skewer you.”

  Grumbling, Duncan stood and tugged the plaid across his waist. “Do not let me ever hear you speak out against Lady Meg.”

  “Now I ken you’re sick in the head.” John jammed his dirk back into its sheath. “I said nothing of the sort.”

  Duncan climbed onto the bed and lay on his side. “She’s delicate. Needs protection.” Holy Christ, Meg’s virtue shone right there atop the coverlet. Duncan scooted over the top of the stain.

  “Aye, from the likes of you especially, I reckon.”

  “Wheesht. ’Tis not like that with her.”

  John yanked Duncan’s plaid up. “Then what is it? Are you fixing to visit the Earl of Angus with your hat in your hand?”

  He folded his arms tight to his chest. “Shut your gob.”

  “Ballocks, your arse looks like shite.” John slapped on the salve none too gently. “You want to see payment for nearly getting yourself killed?”

  Duncan gritted his teeth—not against the pain, but because he knew John was right. “Och.” He needed no lecture from his little brother. He could have scored his palm for deflowering the Earl of Angus’s daughter. God damn to hell his hot-blooded urges.

  John shoved the stopper onto the pot. “Keep your cock tied under your braies.”

  Duncan pressed his lips together and batted John’s hand away.

  “I mean it.”

  “Aye.”

  “I’ll inform Da you’re well enough to see him.”

  Duncan rolled to his back with a grunt. “I’ll need a moment to dress.”

  “You should stay abed, give your wound another day to heal—come to your senses afore you resume your duties.”

  Remaining abed was a luxury Duncan could ill afford. “Always full of advice, are you not?”

  “Aye?” John walked toward the door. “Someone needs to be where you’re concerned.”

  Duncan sidled off the bed. “I can handle my affairs just fine.”

  “So says the ravisher of women.”

  Duncan shook his fist. “Begone with you afore I strap my sword to my belt.” Even grown, younger brothers could be a pain in the arse.

  Flinging his hands up, John took his leave.

  Duncan moved to the bowl and removed his shirt. He poured in some water and soaped up the cleansing cloth. He was madder than hell that John had found him with Meg up against the wall, his cock jutting from beneath his shirt like an oak branch. Bloody hell, Duncan knew better. And thank the stars John came in when he did. Taking the Earl of Angus’s sister up against the wall like she was a commoner? He must have completely lost his mind due to the fever. A hundred times he’d told himself Lady Meg was off limits. The next thing he knew, he’d lost consciousness and awakened to the queen of the fairies in his bed. Bloody blundering idiot he was.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Meg found the stairwell and made her way to the great hall. Her face hot, her breaths came in short spurts. Completely mortified that John had burst into Duncan’s chamber and found them entwined in such an unnatural state of undress, she never could face Duncan’s younger brother again.

  She clapped a hand to her chest. What if John revealed her indiscretion to the L
ord of Glenorchy, or, God forbid, to her brother? How on earth could she have allowed it to happen? Up there in Duncan’s chamber, it had seemed as if they were the only two people in the world. Had she completely lost her sense of propriety?

  With one accusing glare from John, her fantasy had shattered—along with her maidenhead. Oh how she’d humiliated herself. She clutched her hands to her stomach. Not only was she exhausted, she wanted to be sick.

  Standing in the hall as if dumb, a few people ate porridge at the tables, but from the sounds coming from the courtyard, it was well past time for the morning meal. Pattering from the stairwell behind her, four girls pushed past, giggling and chatting all at once. Recognizing them as Duncan’s sisters, Meg stepped aside. They all appeared younger than she.

  One stopped and smiled. “Good morrow, Lady Meg.”

  She hid her claw behind her back. “Good morrow . . . ah . . .” She’d met them in such a fleeting moment, she couldn’t remember a one’s name.

  The lass smiled as if she understood. “I’m Gyllis, Duncan’s eldest sister.” She pointed at the others. “That’s Helen and the twins are Alice and Marion.” Her brow creased. “How is our elder brother?”

  By the heat in her cheeks, Meg knew she was blushing. They couldn’t possibly know what happened above stairs. Could they? She cleared her throat. “He’s awake and much stronger.”

  “Thank heavens,” they chorused.

  The younger girls pattered back toward Meg, with curiosity written across their faces. “Twins?” she said, looking between the two lovely lasses. “I can scarcely tell you apart.”

  Alice and Marion regarded each other and giggled. They had dun-colored locks like John, while Gyllis and Helen sported chestnut tresses. “Is Duncan the only sibling with black hair?” Meg asked.