Highland Promise

by Alyson McLayne

  He swallowed, blew out a heavy breath. “I remember. But…but after that. What did I say to you after that?”

  “You told me to wrap my legs around your waist.”

  He dropped his head to her neck and groaned. It vibrated through her body, setting everything aflame.

  “Caitlin, you’re killing me.” His teeth nipped her throat. “I want to know about after the loving. What did I say when we were done?”

  “God’s truth, I canna remember. But I think I’d like you to kiss me now, aye?” Her hands fisted in his hair and tugged upward.

  “Aye,” he agreed, then locked his lips to hers.

  Mouth hot and greedy, she opened it immediately. He plunged inside, stroking the sensitive flesh, capturing her tongue and sucking it into his mouth. She felt wild, out of control, and pressed her body to his, rubbed her breasts against his chest.

  He growled into her mouth, then released her lips and kissed down her neck. The warm puffs of breath on her skin were like an arrow straight to her core and filled her with the desire to spread her knees and lift her hips. She arched upward—an offering. Wanting more. Wanting everything.

  “Darach!”

  He pressed his big hand to her breast. She shuddered. The need to be possessed by him pulsed through her body.

  “I canna wait. Please.”

  He captured her mouth in a hard, possessive kiss, then stood with her in his arms and strode to the bed. By the time he laid her on the quilts, he’d already released her brooch, the one he’d gifted her on their wedding day, and her arisaid fell open, leaving her in her linen chemise. With no time wasted, he stripped off her shoes and hose, then grasped the bottom of her chemise and pulled it over her head.

  Her hair tumbled around her bare shoulders, and she giggled. Looking up, her laughter faded. He watched her intently, eyes stroking her naked body, then caressing her face and hair as he would a precious gift. Her heart swelled with love, and she reached toward him. He gently took her hand, sat on the edge of the bed, and kissed it, loving every finger, her palm, the back of her wrist.

  “You are a miracle, lass. My miracle.”

  Tears filled her eyes—happy tears. “I love you, Darach MacKenzie.”

  He smiled, kissed the wetness from her cheeks. “I love you too, Caitlin MacKenzie.”

  She gasped, pulled back to see his face. “You do?”

  “Aye, of course I do. I wouldnae have married you elsewise. Only true love could have tempted me to the altar.”

  With a squeal of joy, she threw her arms around his neck, laughing and kissing wherever she could reach—his ear, his head, his brow.

  “Say it again,” she demanded.

  “Nay.” His hands stroked her back, curved around her bottom. “’Tis not something a warrior says easily. In fact, I may ne’er say it again.”

  “Aye, you will, every night, or I’ll ne’er leave you alone.”

  “I doona want you to leave me alone.”

  Their eyes met and the intensity between them changed, deepened. She stroked her fingers across his lips.

  “Take off your clothes, Husband.”

  In a matter of seconds, he stood naked beside the bed and stared down at her. She reached out to stroke his thigh, his strength a marvel to her. Her hand caressed higher through the rough hair and she ran her fingers along the crease where his leg met his body. The muscles quivered beneath her touch, and she smiled.

  Darach MacKenzie loved her.

  She made him tremble.

  “Touch me,” he said, voice rough, hands fisted by his sides. Her own excitement rose to know he fought to control himself.

  Her hand surged upward, exploring his rigid shaft with her fingertips. Lightly, then harder, circling the crest and over the moist tip. The trembling increased, as did his breathing, and his flesh pulsed. It fascinated her. So primitive, so exciting. She remembered how he’d filled her between her legs, and she squeezed her thighs together to contain the sudden, hot ache.

  “Enough,” he said with a shaky breath, and moved over top of her.

  She lay back against the soft quilts, loving the feel of his body weighing her down, wedged between her legs. Loved the pressure in that exact spot. First it soothed her, then it made her squirm. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and she rubbed her feet against the back of his calves.

  “Tell me again you love me,” she said, nibbling his neck, inhaling the wild scent of him—pine, fresh air, horses. He smelled like her man.

  “Well now, I doona know for sure, but I can say with nary a doubt that I love this spot right here.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “This spot too, and this one.” He kissed the corner of her mouth and her chin, making her sigh.

  Then he kissed his way down her neck to her nipple, laved it with his tongue. Her breath caught. “I definitely love it right here.” He took her breast in his mouth and sucked. Hard. She groaned and arched her back. His hand stroked upward to squeeze her other nipple, and she jerked, hips rocking against him, knees opening wider.

  “Darach, for the love of God.”

  “You wanted me to tell you I loved you. I’m not finished yet.”

  She whimpered as he moved farther down her body. Each kiss given with love driving her closer to madness. Every nerve ending screaming that he mount her, take her.

  When he reached the crease where her thigh and body met, she realized he wasn’t going to stop. A wanting for this last, intimate kiss filled her. At the same time, she was horrified. She tried to sit up, but his hand pressed her back onto the bed, held her down. His other hand pressed her knee wider.

  She raised her head. Their eyes met. “Darach, nay.”

  A treacherous smile curved his lips. “Caitlin, aye.”

  Then he lowered his head and licked her womanhood from bottom to top in one slow sweep. Everything exploded and she squealed. Her hips bucked against him, her muscles clenched. Gripping her pelvis, he found her nub and sucked. Another wave of bliss crashed over her. He moved up her body before it was over and entered in one quick thrust. She clamped around him, her pleasure deepened, intensified. He drove into her, hard and fast.

  It was almost too much. She sobbed for him to stop, to not stop, to slow down, to speed up. Then something broke, her body tensed at the same time as his, and she tumbled over the edge. He shuddered above her with his own release, his mouth covering hers in a carnal kiss.

  This must be what Heaven’s like.

  * * *

  She had no idea how long they had lain there, boneless. She didn’t even remember him rolling over with her.

  “Am I too heavy for you?” she asked.

  “Nay, love. I like having you on top of me.”

  She rubbed her hand over his muscular shoulder. Her mind and body were mush. The things he did to her.

  “I must say, I love tupping. I canna imagine anything more pleasurable than what you just did to me.”

  “What we did to each other. And we doona tup, Wife; we make love.”

  She smiled against his chest, loving his domineering tone. “Aye, Husband.”

  They rested together for a while, hands idly caressing, lips kissing. Brisk air wafted in from the open window and blew over their naked bodies. It made her shiver, and he covered them with the quilt.

  “Do you want to talk about your father?” he asked. “I doona like it when you cry, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll listen.”

  Propping her chin on her hands, she looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Well, thank you for that, my laird and master.”

  A flush crept up his neck. “All I meant was…it kills me to see you upset.”

  She smiled and kissed him. “I understand. Men are weak.”

  His outraged expression made her laugh. He smacked her lightly on the behind and she shrieked, startled and thrilled at the same time
.

  “You’ll be getting more of that if you’re not careful, lass.”

  He looked like her laird and master now. The urge to sit up overwhelmed her, and she straddled his pelvis. It surprised her to feel him harden between her legs. Her hips rocked against him. “More of what precisely?” It came out a whisper.

  The breath gusted from his lungs and he pulled her back to his chest. “More of me, a lot more, but not yet. I want to talk about your father. You must be sad about it.”

  She sighed. “Aye, I was verra sad yesterday, but then I realized I was being daft. It mattered not if I came from his seed. He loved me as his own. For me to think otherwise dishonored him.”

  Darach tightened his arms around her. “You have the right of it, lass.”

  Her mind wandered for a moment, and she played with the rough hairs on his chest. “I did wonder about my mother, though. Do you know how she came to be pregnant with me?”

  “Nay, lass. I’m sorry. If you want, I can make inquiries.”

  Was that what she wanted? It would satisfy her curiosity, aye, but it wouldn’t make her any happier. “’Tis not necessary. My life is here with you and the MacKenzies. A long and happy one with bairns and grandbairns, if we are so blessed.”

  He nodded and squeezed her tight. “You deserve every happiness, lass, after what you went through. ’Tis a miracle you weren’t changed by the ordeal. You have a light within you that warms even the darkest soul.”

  “’Twas hard at times. But my uncle had taken so much away from me, I wouldnae let him take my spirit too. ’Twas the one thing I had left from my parents. They had loved me well, shaped me into the woman I am today. I couldnae let my uncle destroy that. So I made a choice to give thanks for everything I had—a beautiful sunset from the window at my uncle’s keep, a wee bird landing on the sill, an apple fallen from a basket that I could sneak to Cloud. And eventually God brought me the greatest gift of all—you—for which I am eternally grateful.”

  He delved his hands into her hair and raised her head for his kiss—hard, yet soft at the same time. His lips worshipping hers, his tongue a gentle caress. Then he laid her head back down on his chest, one hand stroking her hair, the other curved possessively around her bottom.

  Aye, she was happy. She couldn’t be more so. But there was one thing she did want to know. “What was it you asked me about earlier, the thing on our wedding night I couldnae remember?”

  He tensed beneath her and she glanced up to see him frown.

  “What I told you was ne’er lie to me again, yet when I asked what you were doing with the ax you said, ‘Nothing.’ That was a blatant lie. If naught else, you were attempting to chop off your foot. Only by the Grace of God did I get there in time.”

  She groaned silently. Why had she brought that up? She really was a daft bat.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Well what?”

  “Why did you lie to me, and what in God’s name were you doing with the ax?”

  “I didn’t lie…exactly. I just avoided the question. I doona always want to tell you everything. And the reason I had the ax was because Nell kicked me out of the kitchen when I was trying to make one of my mother’s dishes. She blamed me for the fire in the ovens, but it wasn’t my fault.”

  “So…you were going to kill Nell with the ax?”

  “Of course not. Are you mad? I’d ne’er kill anyone.”

  “Then why did you have the ax?”

  “Because Edina shooed me out of your solar. She was most rude about it. I just wanted to help you organize a wee bit.”

  He stilled beneath her. “You were in my solar?”

  “Aye.”

  “Organizing?”

  “Well, not verra much. ’Tis an awful mess, but she shrieked at me to get out.”

  Caitlin lay there, waiting for him to respond. When he didn’t, she looked at him. He stared at the ceiling, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

  “Darach?”

  His chest rose and fell slowly beneath her hands. “Doona go in my solar without me again. Please.” He closed his eyes briefly. “So you wanted the ax to kill Edina, then?”

  She giggled, a bit nervous about telling him the rest. “You’re a daft man. No wonder God made women.”

  “Aye, because everything you’ve said so far makes perfect sense.”

  “I had the ax because of Oslow.”

  “Oslow? What did he do?”

  “He laughed at me. In front of your men. ’Twas most hurtful.” She tried to sound wounded to gain his sympathy.

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean it, but I’ll speak to him.”

  She pushed onto her elbows, horrified. “Nay, doona do that. Really, ’twas my fault.”

  “Why? What did you do?”

  She bit her lip, wondering how to tell him. Looking back, it may not have been a good idea, but at the time it made sense. After all, this was the fifteenth century. “My mother used to help my father with the farming.”

  He frowned again. “Aye?”

  “Well, you doona farm. You’re a warrior, so I thought I could be like my mother and help you…with the fighting.”

  His jaw dropped, much like Oslow’s had. It wasn’t a good sign, and the heat stole up her cheeks. Darach closed his mouth, then opened it to say something, then closed it again and shook his head.

  “That was why you had the ax? To fight?”

  “Aye, if Oslow wouldnae teach me, I would teach myself.”

  He gripped her arms and sat up with her. “God in Heaven, Caitlin. I am your husband. I fight to protect you!”

  “But what if you weren’t here? Wouldnae it be better if I knew how to wield a sword?”

  “Nay! You willna touch a sword, a spear, or that bloody ax again. You almost cut off your foot.”

  “’Twas because the ax was so heavy. Next time I will know how to handle it properly.”

  “There willna be a next time! Christ Almighty, woman, if you died, it would be the end of me.”

  That mollified her, but his anger was like a palpable force, and she dropped her gaze. His chest rose and fell in quick, sharp breaths. She should never have told him.

  He huffed out a lungful of air. “This is about you finding your place.”

  “What?”

  “My purpose is to protect those I care about, most importantly, you. Nell’s purpose is to cook for the clan. Edina’s purpose is to clean the keep. Except for my solar. No one cleans my solar but me.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her by placing a finger over her lips.

  “You take care of people, and you tried to do that today, didn’t you?”

  Aye, she’d tried to do something nice for her husband, to make him happy like her mother had made her father happy. “You’d like my cooking.”

  “I’m sure I would. And maybe if you speak to Nell you can find a time to cook when it doesn’t conflict with her. But the best way you can help me is by caring for the clan. You have a wonderful way with people. Make sure they’re all right, that they feel cared for. Go see them, talk to them. Help them with their animals, take them some of your cooking if you want, ask for advice, share advice. Know their birthdays. Then you can tell me anything important I need to know. Does that sound like a good idea? One that doesn’t involve sharpened metal?”

  She answered by throwing her arms around his neck. “Aye, that sounds like a wonderful idea.” Already she imagined all the things she could do in the village, how she could help the clan and Darach. Take care of the little things he would miss.

  They held one another, and after a minute, his hands slid lower to massage the soft curves of her bottom. Her heart sped up. Maybe he would make love to her again. Like this. She shifted closer.

  “Darach?”

  “Aye?” He moved against her, harder now, se
nding that hot, heavy feeling to her groin.

  “Do I have to be on my back when we make love?”

  He raised his knees behind her, and she was wedged against him. If she lifted upward and then down, he would be inside her body. Lord in Heaven, how she wanted to do that. She rocked her core against his shaft, almost to the tip. He surged in response.

  “Nay, you can be in any position you like.” His voice shook, and he nipped along her collarbone to her shoulder.

  “And if I like this position?” She rocked again, stroking him a little higher this time, nails digging into his back, breasts rubbing his chest.

  “Then I like it too.”

  On the third stroke, he lifted her at the end and slid inside. They groaned and held each other tight. Darach tangled his hands in her hair and gave her a hard kiss, then surged inside again.

  “I suppose now’s not the best time to tell you my brothers and Gregor are waiting downstairs.”

  Her eyes popped open in horror. Then he hit a sweet spot inside and the protest in her throat turned into a lusty moan.

  Twenty-one

  “Pray forgive me. Darach ne’er told me you were here.”

  Darach looked down at his wife and his heart swelled. She was so lovely, all flushed and bright-eyed from their lovemaking, hair a little mussed even though she’d brushed it. His brothers and Gregor stood in front of the hearth in the great hall, staring at her with grins on their faces. They knew what had taken place upstairs and took no offense at being left to amuse themselves for a few hours. A man had his priorities—making love to his bride was at the top of the list.

  She’d protested when he’d first told her about their visitors, but he’d quickly brought her attention back to the task at hand. Afterward, she’d scolded him the entire time she washed and dressed, saying, “They’ll think I’m wanton.” By the time they were ready to meet their guests, she was like a flustered hen. Darach braced for anything to spew out of her mouth.