Quint kissed her neck. “I know the difference, Beth. Now, be a good little wife, and tell ye husband what or who has caused ye distress?”
She didn’t answer him. Instead, she asked a question of her own. “Did you bring Duncan back with you?”
He sighed against the soft skin of her neck. He wanted his wife to feel comfortable enough to confide in him, but at the same time, he hadn’t seen her, touched her, been with her for nearly a sennight and attempting to pry information Beth obviously didn’t wish to impart right this moment was the last thing on his mind.
“Aye,” he whispered. “I did.”
Quint nuzzled his way back up her neck to her ear and across her cheek before finally capturing her lips. Her tongue flicked out and intertwined with his, drawing him into a kiss that shook his control with its intensity, its need. The heady taste of summer-ripened berries mixed perfectly with her sleepy warmth and quenched a thirst his soul hadn’t realized it hungered for while her soft, tempting flesh beneath his fingertips enticed and excited his already overheated ardor.
God, he’d missed her.
She stilled in his arms, and her voice suddenly sounded strained. “Perhaps you should’ve left Duncan with his grandfather. Is it too late to take him back?”
He sighed, tamped down his fervor, and forced his cock to behave long enough to get to the bottom of whatever was troubling his wife. He rose, lit a candle, then sat back down on the side of the bed.
“Out with it, my Beth. What has transpired in the short time I’ve been away ta make ye so fearful?”
She gulped. “Nothing really. It’s simply that I’ve come to realize Marta doesn’t like him very much, and I’d hate to see Duncan hurt. That’s all.”
Quint paced. “Everybody knows Marta does nae like the child. She ignores the lad every chance she gets and ridicules him when given the opportunity. She’s made nae secret of the fact she blames him for her sister Mairi’s death. But she’d never actually harm him, Beth. Trust me in this. Marta and I have been friends since we were children growing up together. At the end of the day, Duncan’s still her blood relation, the only one she has left. And she’s still a MacLeod. MacLeod blood does nae harm MacLeod blood. It goes against everything we believe in. Nae without dire consequences anyway.”
Beth shook her head. “What if I told you I’m sure she does mean to do Duncan harm? That I heard her say those very words? Would you believe me then?”
Quint smiled. “Perhaps ye have, and perhaps she did, but it nae matters. In the end, she will nae. Anyway, I promised his grandfather I’d teach the lad how ta defend himself. It will nae be long before Duncan MacLeod can watch his own back. Until then, it’ll be good that ye are willing ta engage him in studies when he isn’t in the lists with me. Between the two of us, Marta will be hard-pressed ta find young Duncan alone long enough ta cause any mischief, let alone harm.”
He winked to distract her. Marta was his problem, not his pregnant young wife’s worry. “Now, can we put away the rest of ye worries ’til morning? I’d very much like ta make love ta my wife. I’ve missed ye something fierce, and my poor cock has been threatening revolt if it does nae get relief soon.”
She smiled, and he blew out the candle.
The reverberation of Beth’s gasp and then giggle as Quint quickly pinned her to the bed and proceeded to lavish her face, her breasts, and her belly with kisses was the most welcome sound he’d heard in ever so long.
Tingles of anticipation skittered along Beth’s spine as an urgent throbbing began deep in her core. She nudged against him, rubbing, rocking, seeking to get closer than nothing but skin between them would allow.
His voice broke as he shuddered above her. “Forgive me, my Beth. I can wait nae longer ta have ye. I’ll do better next time. I give ye my word.” He parted her thighs and plunged forward with one long, strong, steady stroke.
Beth sighed happily as she wrapped her legs around her husband’s fine ass and met each of his thrusts with an answering force of her own.
He laved her nipples, first the right and then the left before taking turns sucking them deep into his mouth. They hardened beneath his attention, and spirals of delight scurried from the top of her head to the bottoms of her feet.
His pace increased, and so did hers. Over and over, he joined with her, giving then taking away, filling her with his thick girth as she clenched tightly around it in an attempt to make the pleasure of every single stroke last as long as possible. It was wonderful. Quint was wonderful. The entire world was wonderful.
Beth giggled again as joy and pleasure filled her to overflowing.
“Ah, ye think my lovemaking ta be a laughable matter, do ye?” He chuckled. “I suppose I’d best put more effort into it and show ye what ye husband is capable of.” He smiled against her skin. “I want ye breathless beneath me, my Beth. I want ta hear ye scream with ye happiness, ye satisfaction, ye bliss. And I want ta hear the sound of ye voice shouting my name when ye find it.”
Beth sighed, tightened her legs more securely about him, and arched, drawing him in deeper, daring him to do precisely as he threatened.
Quint growled, nuzzled her neck, nipped her bottom lip, and doubled the pace and intensity of his thrusts.
She gasped as spasms of pure pleasure exploded seemingly everywhere at the same time. Her eyes crossed, her nipples tingled, her thighs quivered, her clit contracted, and deep within, her soul discovered the true meaning of unbridled passion. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God,” she yelled.
Two strokes later, Quinton stiffened above her as the warmness of his cum filled her. Beth smiled as she held him tightly, enjoying the aftermath of what they’d shared.
A moment later, Quint’s shoulders began to shake, and at first, she didn’t understand what was wrong.
“Though I do appreciate the comparison, my Beth.” He laughed. “I am nae a god, but simply a man.”
She swatted him on the shoulder. He laughed again, harder this time as he turned until he was flat on his back with her nestled against his side and close to his heart.
He yawned loudly and chuckled again. “Ye never fail ta surprise me, and ye even scare me a little with ye insatiable hunger for me attention, lass.”
Beth swatted him again as heat wicked up her neck and filled her cheeks.
This time, instead of laughing, he cupped her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. “Never feel embarrassed of what we have between us, my Beth. ’Tis a rare gift. Know this, though. I’ve come ta care for ye more than a prudent man probably should a wife, and I trust ye with my very heart as I hope ye will someday trust me with yours.”
He kissed her, a soft peck, and within moments, he was snoring.
Beth didn’t sleep though. She watched Quint slumber, and a lump formed in her throat. She forcibly swallowed it down. Now was not the time for emotion. Now was the time for planning. He cared for her as she cared for him, and she’d—well, really, not she herself but Elspeth—had betrayed him. What was she going to do to remedy that fact?
Earlier, she’d failed to make him understand how much danger Duncan was in, and she’d botched it so badly because of her fear of losing the very first real love between a woman and a man she’d ever known. If she were any kind of good and decent person at all, she would’ve forced Quint to stop doing the wonderful things he’d been doing and she would’ve made him listen to the retelling of the entire conversation she’d had with Marta.
And if truth be told, she shouldn’t even think of stopping with that one little tête-à-tête either. She should expose every single detail she’d uncovered about the viscount and Elspeth’s involvement from Elspeth’s memories.
After all, what right did Bethany Ann Anderson have to withhold information that could potentially save both Quinton and Duncan MacLeod from what had been set in motion when Elspeth Frasier hadn’t died as she once had? Especially since Beth herself had no intention of remaining in this time period after Quint’s heir was born.
<
br /> She couldn’t stay here, even if a part of her wanted to. It wasn’t possible. She simply had a job to do, and then she’d be with her children again, and she’d not think of it in any other way.
Beth bit her lip and stroked her slightly rounded tummy where Quinton’s son safely grew. Yes, she’d tell him. He wasn’t just any man. Quint was Laird of Brochel castle and her husband, for the time being anyway. He had every right to know what dangers lay ahead. It was her responsibility as his wife to inform him of anything that might affect him, his people, or his child.
Beth swallowed a sob as Quint’s eyes fluttered open, and he smiled lecherously at her. Leaning over, he captured one of her nipples between his teeth and nipped. Startling spasms of pleasure ricocheted throughout her body landing right between her thighs. She couldn’t help herself. She rocked against his growing hardness, seeking to get closer. Her body begging for one more time. Possibly the very last time.
Oh, yes. She’d tell him everything…well, almost everything anyway. And she’d do it first thing in the morning. Really she would. Her conscience demanded it of her. But for the remainder of this one last night while they were still safe within their chamber and she was still wrapped within his arms, she’d be greedy and gift herself these last few hours of pure bliss.
The last moments she’d ever know before she stood before him and watched his beautiful eyes cloud with surprise and fill with disgust as he came to realize his wife, Elspeth Frasier MacLeod had been as set on his downfall and destruction as Marta and Lord Fredrick ever were.
For, Quinton MacLeod, Laird of Brochel castle, protector of small children, and thoughtful, wonderful, oh so sexy lover who had just told her he’d come to care for her, hated disloyalty above all else, and she knew it. She also knew there was no way to tell him the truth about the viscount or the woman he’d thought to be a lifelong friend without revealing the involvement of the before-Beth’s-time, Elspeth Frasier.
****
Beth was fairly certain she hadn’t dozed for more than a few moments at a time the entire night, and yet it still surprised her that the sun had risen and she’d better rise herself and prepare to face the day.
She watched her husband dress and contemplated where to begin with what needed to be said, for begin she must. She couldn’t allow another day to go by without making sure Quint understood that he, Duncan, his people, and even his castle were in imminent danger.
But where to start?
She chewed her bottom lip. There was no way to tell him that his sweet, young, pretty little wife was in reality a forty-five-year-old flabby, saggy, dead woman from four hundred years in the future. But then again, she couldn’t very well tell the man that, though she was indeed Elspeth Frasier MacLeod, she wasn’t the same Elspeth Frasier MacLeod who’d willingly plotted against him with Lord Fredrick. The very same Elspeth who’d betrayed him before she’d spoken a single vow. If she tried to tell him anything close to the truth, he’d probably have her locked away somewhere and throw away the key. Or have her burned as the witch he’d undoubtedly believe her to be.
Beth placed a hand protectively across her belly, and the sensation of fluttering butterflies danced beneath her fingertips. There had to be another way to explain what she knew, without revealing who she truly was and putting their—Quinton’s child in jeopardy.
The man she’d just been thinking about headed toward the door, and she knew she’d run out of time. “Quint, there’s something I need to speak with you about before you leave, please.”
Her voice sounded squeaky and nervous even to her own ears. She gulped.
He turned and faced her. “What is it, my Beth? I’m in a hurry ta get out onto the lists, but if it’s important, I’ll gladly make time for ye first. Today is ta be young Duncan’s first lesson with a sword.” He chuckled. “Ye can have a go at him after supper, though, I promise. However, the lad may be too worn out ta pay much attention ta ye reading lessons by then.”
She wrung her hands and took a deep breath. “What I have to say won’t take long. I simply need to tell you—”
A loud knock sounded on their chamber door, and Beth yelped.
Quint didn’t flinch. He simply bellowed, “Enter.”
The door swung open, and a man Beth recognized as one of Quint’s many warriors walked in. His face was red, his clothing stained with soot, and his eyes filled with anger. “My laird, a MacDonald has been captured and brought ta the great hall. He’s there now, awaiting ye justice. But he was nae caught before setting fire ta two coffers and causing the deaths of five of our kinsmen.”
Quint shifted into full Highland chieftain mode right before Beth’s eyes, as in not much more than a whisper, he hissed, “How did a thieving MacDonald manage ta slip past the guards I ordered on lookout?”
The warrior lowered his head, and his voice shook. “He did his mischief in the middle of the night, laird. Tavis MacLeod, his wife, and their three weans did nae have a chance ta escape. Luckily, old Angus was nae at home. He’s still visiting the people of the husband to his oldest daughter.”
Quint glanced at Beth for a moment, and the pain in his eyes broke her heart. “Stay here until I return for ye, my Beth. The great hall is nae a place for a lady right now. Ye understand? I do nae wish for ye ta witness what’s ta come. Clan justice can be unpleasant at times. Ye’ll get ye chance ta tell me what’s on ye mind when I’m done. I swear ye will.”
Beth nodded, and without another word, Quinton walked out and closed the door.
She counted to one hundred and then followed. She was disobeying Quint’s dictates, but her curiosity was stronger than her fear. Silently, she crept down the stairs, far enough to still be hidden in the shadows, but close enough to observe the goings on.
There stood her handsome Highlander of a husband with a bloodied mess of a man lying at his feet.
“Stand him up,” Quint ordered.
Two MacLeod men hurried to do their laird’s bidding.
“Who are ye, and who sent ye ta do such evil?” Quint’s voice dripped with malice.
The bloodied man lifted his head and stood up straight. “Does nae matter who I am, and nobody sent me anywhere. Whatever I may have done or will do in the future, I do all on my own. I answer ta no man.”
Quint pointed to the green and black plaid kilt. “Ye wear the colors of the MacDonalds. Do ye claim not ta be one of their numbers, then?”
The man spit at Quinton’s feet. “I wish I was a MacDonald. Me mum belonged ta their clan before she married me da. They at least have honor. The MacDonalds do nae steal a man’s land out from under him because he likes ta take a drink now and again, and they sure as hell do nae give his land over ta another less deserving.”
Quint moved in a little close to the man and tipped his face up. “I think I do know ye. Aren’t ye old Shamus MacLeod’s son? The same Shamus MacLeod who I threw off my land because he was drunk all the time and refused ta work it?”
The man nodded once. “Aye, I am Clach, and after ye tossed me da, me mum, and meself off ye land without a care, ye gave it over to that greedy Tavis MacLeod. We had nae place ta call home. Nae people ta depend upon, and nae help from anyone. Me da and mum both died last winter because of what ye, Tavis MacLeod, and that liar, Angus, did. It was him and Tavis who went ta ye with the tale of me da’s drinking.”
Chills ran down Beth’s spine as a smile suddenly split Clach’s face. “Though I could nae make Angus pay for his part in the deed, at least, Tavis MacLeod will nae be harvesting the fertile fields on me da’s land any longer. I made sure of that.”
Tears stung Beth’s eyes. Tavis and his entire family had been burned alive, his innocent wife and three small children killed, and for what? For nothing more than a stupid chunk of ground? Anger filled her to overflowing. She’d never wished for someone else’s pain, but she fervently hoped Quint would severely punish Clach MacLeod and cause him a great deal of suffering.
Quint nodded. “Ye are right in that. Tav
is MacLeod and his family have nae more need for the land or anything else except for burying, and I have nae more use for ye.” He hefted his claymore, and with a single swing, sliced opened the belly of the man standing before him.
Screams rent the air as a stream of bloody intestines tumbled toward the floor like wet, red, dangling ropes.
Beth gagged.
“Disgraced or nae, kicked off land or nae, ye and ye da and mum were still MacLeods with MacLeod rights and privileges. Ye could’ve asked at any door and not been turned away.” Quint shook his head. “Instead, ye chose to betray ye own people, kill ye own kinsman? Disloyalty and betrayal I cannae abide. Ye, Clach, son of Shamus MacLeod, are hereby sentenced ta be staked outside the gates of this castle, so ye may gaze upon the fertile MacLeod fields that will never be yours while ye die a coward’s death. What’s left of ye after the buzzards finish we’ll burn without a prayer said or a care taken, like ye did Tavis and his family.”
He gestured to two of his men. “Take him away, and do as I’ve commanded. May God have mercy on his soul, for I have nae ta spare him.”
As the two guards dragged the still screaming man away, leaving a trail of blood and gore in their wake, Beth ran for the safety of her room.
She gulped in deep breathes of air and backed as far away from the door as she could possibly get. She’d known ancient Scotland was a violent, uncivilized place, and Highlanders in particular. After all, they were a barbaric race of people, especially during the early ages when the small country was rife with all manner of war and strife. But nothing could’ve prepared her for the brutality she’d just witnessed delivered from her husband’s own hand.
Bile filled her throat, and Beth made a mad dash for the chamber pot.
As she knelt there, emptying her belly of what little was in it, one thing became adamantly clear. She couldn’t tell Quint about the viscount’s, Elspeth’s, and Marta’s plans now. At least not yet. She couldn’t take the chance he’d do the same to her. She couldn’t take the chance he’d harm the child she carried.
Time For A Highlander (Real Men Wear Kilts) Page 12
