A Rose in the Highlands (Highland Roses School)

by Heather McCollum

  She felt the press of his rod between them, and her hands dipped down to slide under his kilt. Running her fingers up the muscles of his thighs, she came to the top and tentatively ran them up the skin. Grey groaned against her mouth. She wrapped her hands around the thickness, velvety skin over his rock-hard length, and he shuddered.

  “Stroke up and down, lass,” he said, and she did, marveling at the feel of him in her hands. She felt his stones below and knew that he was at his most vulnerable, surrendering himself to her touch. It made her feel powerful and beautifully wicked.

  Grey let go of her and with a tug of his belt, the heavy folds of his plaid fell between them and to the floor. Looking down, Evelyn’s inhale stuttered as she saw his largeness jutting upward. A primal heat pulsed within her, making her ache. He was magnificent.

  Grabbing the blanket she’d left on the table, Grey opened it to lie over a chair before the fire. She watched him stalk over to the library door. “’Twas a bedroom with an indoor brace,” he said, lowering a wooden plank over the door. They were locked inside, alone. “Sit,” he said. Wild heat nearly crackled in the air as she sat, watching him pad across the floorboards. His muscles flexed and contracted with each step, as if he were a sleek predator, his long, thick member riding high before him. Evelyn felt herself clench, and she squirmed in the chair, pressing her hips down into the padded seat.

  Grey stopped before the mirror, lifting it to bring over. He set it beside the fire and turned it to her. He murmured something in Gaelic. It sounded almost reverent, and his hand moved along his shaft.

  Evelyn’s breasts ached, and she lifted her hands up underneath them, squeezing them as he watched. With a slow pull, she untied the front and lowered the white linen, letting her breasts spill out to fill her palms. Grey groaned. Her knees spread in the chair as if nature’s wildness itself was taking over her body. “That’s it, lass. Do what feels good.”

  “Does that feel good?” she asked, looking to his hand on his cod.

  “Aye, but it will feel even better when your body strokes it.”

  His words brought another surge of heat, and Evelyn opened her lips, her breath coming faster. Her hand dipped to her spread legs, and Grey knelt before her. His fingers caught the edge of her smock, rucking it upward over her knees and her bare thighs until her woman’s vee was exposed to his sight.

  “Och, lass,” he said, bending down. Evelyn held her breath. “Watch,” he whispered, and she looked over him to the mirror, placed in such a position that she could see him as he kissed her intimately. Evelyn squeezed her breasts and threw her head back as heat shuddered through her. “Grey,” she breathed.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered, and she leveled her head to see herself in the mirror. The sight raced chills and heat across her skin.

  She turned to meet his gaze. “More.”

  “Aye, Evelyn,” he said, drawing her close so that her legs straddled him, hugging against his bare skin. “Much more.” His hands worked her smock up her back and over her head. Naked, she rubbed herself along him, reveling in the feel of bare skin against bare skin. She dropped so that her knees met the ground and reached to touch him. He groaned, and the sound of his pleasure tantalized her.

  He yanked the blanket off the chair, spreading it before the fire. Evelyn lay down upon it, her fingers licking across her own stomach and abdomen. “Grey, please.”

  “Aye.” He lay down beside her, kissing her as he stroked below. “Och, lass, ye are so lush.” His Scottish accent was thick with need, and she pressed up against his hand. Her breathing was ragged as he climbed over her, her knees rising up and out to the sides, opening herself to him completely.

  Trust? Here was the proof of her trust. How could any woman experience such wild passion without it?

  Poised, his muscles bunched as he held himself over her, Evelyn felt more alive than ever before. He leaned in to capture her lips, slanting a wild kiss over her, their tongues tasting and enticing each other as he rubbed below. Then, with one swift surge, he buried himself within her.

  Pain shot through Evelyn, and her body tensed. Large and hard as granite. She squeezed her eyes shut at the sting and waited. She heard him breathing above her, but he didn’t move. Slowly, she blinked open to find him staring down into her face. He lowered, kissing her gently.

  “I am well,” she whispered. He studied her face as if trying to read her mind. “Make the pain go away,” she said.

  Grey’s kiss trailed to her ear. “Ye are so tight. Ye fit around me, your hot, wet flesh, lass.” His words, so forbidden, worked like liquid lightning to tease her skin, sending gooseflesh along her limbs, and her pelvis rose to meet him fully. His breath tickled her ear. “I want to make ye cry out your pleasure. Aye, press against me, feel me deep inside ye, lass.”

  Evelyn grasped Grey’s backside, kneading his flesh and pulling his hips to meet her. He looked down at her, his face sharp with intensity, a man fighting a war. Slowly he withdrew and slid in again.

  Evelyn cried out as the pleasure of complete fullness snapped through her, and she arched to meet him. “Yes,” she called, urging him to surge forward. She followed his lead as he increased the pace, meeting him in a carnal rhythm, their bodies straining together as she raked his back with her nails. The wildness inside her kept building, higher and higher. Evelyn glanced over his shoulder where the mirror reflected his powerful body, pumping into her, her legs wrapped up and around him, her feet on his flexing backside. The sight was beautiful, carnal, and absolutely wild.

  Keeping her eyes open, she watched their joining, feeling and seeing until the ache inside her built higher and higher until… Pleasure exploded inside Evelyn. “Grey,” she cried, pressing her body up into him as fire erupted. Everything within her clenched, her eyes squeezing shut with such intensity.

  Grey answered with a growl, slamming his body into her as he tensed, the muscles in his face and neck taut. “Tha thu m’anam!” They held themselves against each other, the closest that two people could ever be, as Evelyn felt his release.

  Heart thundering, Evelyn squeezed herself against Grey for long moments as the waves of ecstasy ebbed like a tide going back out to a warm sea. He enfolded her, pulling them both to their sides. Their legs lay intertwined, the sweet, musky smell of their love in the heat between them as he wrapped her up against his chest, pulling the blanket around them.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Evelyn was floating in warmth, the fog of dreams still cradling her as she felt strong arms under her back. She was being lifted.

  A small grin tugged the corners of her mouth as she inhaled the warm scent of Grey. She shifted slightly, blinking open to gaze straight into his beautiful eyes. They held mirth and a devilish promise.

  “Now where are you taking me?” After their wild coupling in the library, Grey had carried her up to his scandalous bed, and their passion-filled adventures had taken them late into the night. He’d even fetched the mirror. It still sat at an angle to his bed where he’d left it for her viewing pleasure. He passed it silently, carrying her to the door that they’d left open between their rooms.

  She tried to push up in his arms. “Grey?”

  “Shhh,” he whispered and glanced toward the door of her room that led to the corridor.

  “Evelyn? Why don’t you answer me?”

  Scarlet! Evelyn’s eyes snapped wide, and she would have fallen out of Grey’s arms if he hadn’t drawn her up against him, steadying her wobble. He set her, wrapped in one of his furs, on her still-made bed.

  Scarlet knocked loudly. “Are you ill, Evelyn?” She pushed against the door, as if trying to shove it open.

  “I…I am well,” Evelyn called back. “Just…I was asleep.”

  Grey leaned down to gently kiss her lips, and her thoughts dissolved until Scarlet’s voice shot through the door again.

  “Thank God. How could you
have slept through me banging so?” she asked.

  With a half grin, Grey turned to pad back to his room. He was completely naked, his taut backside looking perfect as his long, muscular legs propelled him effortlessly across the floor. He softly shut the door between them, and Evelyn hopped off her bed.

  Her body ached in new ways, the ways a well-loved woman must feel. “Give me a moment,” Evelyn called. She glanced down to see that she, too, was completely naked, and her smock and robe were somewhere on the floor around Grey’s massive bed. She threw the fur under her tiny bed and grabbed a new smock from her chest, throwing it over her head.

  “Sleeping in?” Scarlet asked, as Evelyn pulled her door open. “You never sleep in. Every time I’ve come to get you in the mornings, you’re dressed, with your bed perfectly made.”

  Evelyn let Scarlet walk in. “That’s what I was doing, making my bed,” Evelyn said, pushing her wild hair over to one side.

  Scarlet frowned, squinting her eyes as if she didn’t believe her. “Before you dressed and let me in?”

  “I was half asleep. I did it before I thought.” Evelyn shrugged.

  “Hmph,” Scarlet said. “Well, you look to need more sleep. Dark circles under your eyes, and you look flushed.” She grabbed her wrist. “Your pulse is high.”

  “You startled me,” Evelyn said, snatching back her arm. “Let me get dressed, and we’ll go down to eat.”

  “Best hurry,” Scarlet said as Evelyn went to the trunk to pull out one of her English day gowns. Until she had another made and the Scottish-style gown dried, she’d have to wear her English costume.

  “Is something amiss?” Evelyn asked.

  “Molly is making another batch of tarts, as several mothers told her they would be sending their daughters to our school. We should help in the event a horde of ladies arrive to learn their letters.” She gently slapped her hands together as if in anticipation.

  Evelyn smiled, her brows raised. “Scarlet Worthington is excited about baking?”

  “To get more students, certainly. Students are as valuable as gold to us,” Scarlet said, handing Evelyn a folded parchment. “From Nathaniel. Arrived this morning.”

  Tension twisted inside Evelyn as she cracked the wax seal, her eyes scanning her brother’s script.

  “Is it bad?” Scarlet asked.

  Evelyn let out a long sigh. “Philip is quite of the opinion that we are getting married, no matter how Nathaniel tries to steer him away.” She looked up at her sister. “We need to make this school profitable. Soon.”

  Scarlet nodded, a firm determination in her eyes. “Then we best go down to help Molly make the best tarts these people have ever tasted.”

  …

  Grey walked down the corridor on the second floor, pausing at the open library door where Alana sat with Izzy and three other lasses from the village. Alana bent over a table, pointing to an open book. She whispered something that made the other lasses giggle. Izzy thumped the table with her open palm and pointed at him. Alana immediately shut the book.

  “I’m telling you,” Scarlet was saying near the hearth. “It must be a thief. What apparition would steal away a full-length mirror?”

  Grey’s gaze went to Evelyn. She sat in the same chair where he’d loved her last night. Her hair was braided and rested over one shoulder. “We will ask Kerrick if perhaps he took it to polish,” she replied, though the lass knew exactly where the mirror sat, facing his scandalous bed.

  Grey cleared his throat, and Evelyn snapped around in her seat. He nodded to her and her sister. “I am the culprit,” he said.

  Scarlet planted hands on her hips. “You stole the mirror that was to be used in our art lesson today?”

  He shrugged, a mild smile bending his lips. “I had need for it yesterday, so I carried it to my bedroom.” He kept his gaze away from Evelyn, else he’d give something away.

  “Need of a mirror?” Scarlet asked.

  “A warrior must secret away many blades on his person,” he said. “I needed to make certain that none would be seen through my clothes.”

  Scarlet’s face pinched with confusion. “And you had to do that in your bedchamber.”

  He motioned to Evelyn. She squirmed slightly on the cushion that had cradled her perfect arse last night. “Evelyn has said that I cannot be naked in this room any longer.” An order she’d blatantly broken last night as she tugged his clothes off. “The blades are under my clothes.”

  Several of the lasses behind him giggled, and Alana made some noise that he knew must be accompanying her glance heavenward at his ridiculousness.

  “I will return it today,” he said.

  Evelyn met his gaze and pinched her lips as if holding tightly to a smile. Pink stained her cheeks, but she did not waver or avert her gaze. “Thank you,” Evelyn said. “And I am warned not to step too close to you, else find myself impaled.”

  Impaled. Bloody hell. His rod twitched. Aye, all she had to do was walk close to him. He’d pull her into one of the shadowy alcoves in the castle and make her moan his name again. Evelyn walked the razor’s edge of teasing him, trusting that he would not give her secret away. She was no fainting flower, embarrassed and regretful over learning the secrets of tupping.

  Her teasing comment showed…och, it showed that she trusted him. She’d proved it last night multiple times, exploring with him even after their initial fiery lust was sated. I’m inquisitive, she’d said, running her fingers and kisses along every inch of his skin. Letting him do the same, encouraging him to find every one of her pleasure points.

  Bloody hell, she trusted him. The knowledge twisted inside his gut, a chill falling over him as he thought of his mission to retake Finlarig. He nodded and turned to leave the room but heard footsteps behind him, following him out to the hall. Evelyn didn’t ask him to halt, so he continued toward the back staircase that was rarely used. Daylight filtered in through narrow windowpanes in the tower. He took two steps down and turned to lean against the curved stone wall.

  Evelyn met his gaze, a gentle smile on her face. “I best not come too close, else find myself impaled.”

  A chuckle broke from his chest, pressing back the earlier chill of guilt. Och, she was beautiful when she teased. “And yet ye risked stalking me.”

  “To give you this,” Evelyn said, holding out a book. “I thought…perhaps, we could read it together.”

  He took it. Passions of the Soul by René Descartes.

  “I didn’t see it on your shelves,” she said softly.

  He ran his hand down the rich cover, worked with detailed vines, and his heart felt tight. Meeting her gaze, he smiled. “I would like that.” He pulled her gently in to him. She came willingly, her softness molding easily against him as if they fit together in perfect measure, like a key and a lock, molded differently but in complete harmony with each other. “Thank ye,” he said and grazed her soft cheek with his thumb. “’Tis a rich gift, the second richest I’ve ever received.”

  Her brow rose in a teasing arch. “Oh, and when have you received richer?”

  “Last eve,” he whispered. “Before a stolen mirror in the library.”

  He watched her lips part, the simple act catching at his breath. Brushing a kiss against those soft lips, he bent his forehead to touch hers. “If I don’t leave ye now, your students will wonder where ye’ve gone and why, when ye return, ye are completely unmade and smiling with immense satisfaction.”

  She laughed softly. “Go, then.”

  He brushed his empty hand along the side of her head. “Thank ye.” With one last kiss, he continued down the steps. Striding into the great hall, Grey found Kerrick eating a tart.

  “Delicious enough to make a man groan,” Kerrick said, holding it up.

  Grey set the book down on the mantel, ignoring Kerrick’s questioning gaze. He walked over and grabbed a boiled egg, a tart,
and a bladder of ale as he continued toward the door. The cool air would help him stop from running upstairs to carry Evelyn back to his bed.

  Kerrick followed him outside, talking as he chewed. “With the portcullis finished, the men are working to fortify the stone wall. We will make it another foot thick in short time. Eventually we might consider a six-foot hollow corridor of a wall around the whole. It could shelter villagers and give the men a vantage point if attacked.”

  Would Evelyn question the strengthened defenses? For a military man, it would be evident that Grey was planning for war, not the opening of a ladies’ school. He nodded to Kerrick. “Aye, but for now, with Evelyn still running a school here, keep the fortification simple.”

  “If she questions it?” Kerrick asked, his easy smile dropping to a frown.

  Grey rubbed the ache in the back of his neck. He wouldn’t lie to her outright. He exhaled in a huff. “Tell her I’ve ordered the castle to be strengthened. Let her assume it is to protect her school.”

  “Wise,” Kerrick said.

  Grey didn’t feel wise. He chewed the tart and swallowed despite his gut twisting again. Guilt. Blast. No matter what he did, the shadow of remorse plagued him, coming back even though he pressed it away. Just now in the stairwell above…and last night… Och, he couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it. Evelyn in his arms, soft and moaning, perfect and sweet this morning. He’d never met such an honest woman, English or Scottish. Damn. Maybe a man could live with a bloody twisted gut, for the fact remained, given the chance, he would take back Finlarig, no matter what.

  …

  “Having tea is more than drinking a hot infusion for medicinal reasons,” Evelyn said, as she poured the steeped drink into the first of four delicate china tea bowls that she’d brought from England. Setting the small bowl before Alana, she poured another for Isabel, Scarlet, and finally herself. “Having tea is about slowing down to enjoy. One cannot rush around with delicate china and hot liquid.” She set the tea pot down on the folded fabric.