Conquered by a Highlander

by Paula Quinn

  She arched her back, hovering above the bed to offer him more. The strength of his arm keeping her aloft thrilled the breath right out of her. When he captured her tight nipple in his mouth and sucked, she buckled in his embrace. He showed her no mercy and sucked the other just as hard. When she thought she could stand no more without begging him to lay waste to her, he flicked his tongue and began a more sensual assault, licking, tasting, relishing her breasts and then her mouth.

  She felt his hot shaft, thick and long against her crux, and wiggled over it. His body pulsed in her hands as he cupped her buttocks and rubbed his full, throbbing length against her one more time. And then, lifting her in one hand and dragging her to his hungry mouth with the other, he thrust himself inside her, again and again.

  His body surged into hers, each stroke bolder, longer, deeper, lifting her toward the heavens. Gillian cried out at the pain of not having been with a man in four years, but soon, the rhythm of his hips and the force of his upward thrusts heated her muscles and every other part of her. She relaxed and opened her eyes to find him gazing at her. Ruthlessly, he clenched her arse and guided her up and down, stretching her tight sheath around him to take him deeper until she took all of him. He made her gasp and pant and almost fear what she had so carelessly set free. But his eyes, staring deeply into hers, revealed the beast he truly feared. It was his heart, and the knowledge that he’d lost it.

  “Do you love me, Colin MacGregor?”

  His fine mouth slanted into a smile against her teeth. “Have I not told ye a hundred times today already that I do?”

  When she shook her head, he kissed her and set her down beneath him in his bed. “Aye, I love ye, Gillian Dearly. ’Tis nothing to smile about,” he warned, sinking deep into her again. “I’m a cold-hearted bastard.”

  “Not with me.” She reached up to touch his face with both hands, unable to believe that she had won such a man. “Not with Edmund.”

  “Ye’ve made me soft, lass.” He dipped his gaze to her lips and then closed his eyes to kiss her, setting her heart and her loins ablaze.

  Lifting her hips, she coiled her legs around his waist and met his sinuous plunges with equal fervor. Breaking their kiss, they stared into each other’s eyes while their bodies rocked and pitched like waves cast about in a tumultuous storm. If this was what he considered soft…

  She held him close, moving her fingers over his shoulders, hard and corded beneath her touch. Down the flare of his back, pausing to trace his battle wounds, and then smiling at the thrill of cupping his buttocks while he nailed her to the bed.

  Her soft cries dragged a low, throaty groan from him. He spoke, his mouth hungry for her. “I dream of ye, and now ye’re here with me.”

  He dreamed of her. Lord, she never wanted to be parted from him. She wanted a lifetime of nights like this. Cleaved to him, body and soul, feeling the weight of him, the strength of him as he swept her away, across the sea and above the clouds. To a place where love was real and never disappointing.

  The tender glide of his fingertips along her temple, and down her cheek as he prepared to kiss her, drove her wild with love and desire. Or perhaps it was the way he caressed her mouth, taking his time to taste every inch of her while he slipped his other hand down her back and pressed her hips closer to his. Lord, but he was big and as hard as newly forged steel. When he gritted his teeth and turned away from her to delay the effect of sliding all that cock in and out of her, she quivered in his arms.

  So, she thought, stroking the backs of his thighs while he moved her in a slower, deeper kind of dance, even in the heat of passion, the beast was patient.

  And merciless.

  With a seductive curl of his lips and a molten glint in his eyes, he ground his hips into hers, stroking the nub of her passion with his hot flesh.

  “Ah, lass, am I dreaming now?” He thrust into her hard, once and then again. “Or is this truly yer wet, wicked sheath so tight around me?”

  She arched her back, taking him from tip to hilt as the world as she knew it burst into radiant light. She twitched against him then dug her fingers into his shoulders as her muscles clenched and throbbed around him. Fighting the urge to score her nails down his back, she met his plunges with resistance, unsure of the deluge threatening to overcome her. She cried his name and heard him swear, trying to rein in his control.

  It was her undoing.

  Tossing back her head, she answered his last slow, salacious stroke with a soul-stirring shudder that shook her beneath him.

  She looked up to find him watching her, his expression sorely pained. When she smiled, sated from her passion, he sprang away from her, holding the head of his shaft in his hand. Leaning back on his haunches, he released himself and shot a stream of his seed straight up into the air. The deep-throated growl he emitted with it tempted Gillian to take in the full sight of him, spent though she was. He kept his hands on the mattress behind him, jutting himself toward the ceiling while three more spurts left him shaking.

  He’d kept his seed from her. She understood why he did it. A short while ago, she loved him for it. But now, when passion’s fire had been sated and left her with embers, she realized that wedding her would solve the issue of impregnating her with another fatherless babe. Clearly, he had no thoughts of making her his wife. He said he loved her, but many things were said in heated moments.

  Gillian watched him sit up and then leave the bed to fetch a rag on his table, near a wash basin. She remained silent while he cleaned her, and closed her eyes when he wiped himself next and climbed in beside her.

  She wouldn’t weep. She shouldn’t have expected so much from him. She thought she’d learned her lesson. Still, he’d done so much for her already… If one night with him was all she was allowed, she would make the most of it and hold her head up high in the morning.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Tell me about your family.”

  Lying in his bed facing her, Colin smoothed a golden tendril away from her cheek and smiled at her. “My kin.”

  The way she worried her brow at his correction made him want to tighten his arms around her and pull her close. But he’d already been too rough, too demanding, with her for one night. He’d never relinquished all control in the past—in any undertaking. No one knew the true force of the fires that formed him. But her confidence in seducing him stirred his blood in a way no one else ever could. Her surrender was more satisfying than any victory in battle would ever be. He’d taken her too quickly, too eager to conquer, to relish every moment, every movement. He wanted her again.

  “Are there many different words I must learn?”

  “I’ll speak them to ye every day,” he promised. “By the time ye get to Camlochlin, ye’ll know them all. But first, fergive me if I hurt or frightened ye tonight.”

  Her smile spread over her face, so close to his he could taste her breath. “You didn’t.” She closed her hand around his as it dipped to her mouth and kissed it. “It was perfect. I shall never forget it.”

  He didn’t intend to let her. Something within him stirred back to life at the thought, but he stayed it, utterly content to simply look at her, speak with her.

  “Now tell me of your kin. Are there many women at Camlochlin?”

  “Aye,” he told her quietly, tracing his fingertips along the fine curve of her lips. “My mother will nae doubt gather ye beneath her wing from the moment ye set yer feet on the ground. If not her, then my aunt Maggie surely will. Pray ’tis my mother.”

  They laughed in the firelight while he told her tales about his kin, from his cantankerous cousin Brodie MacGregor to the youngest addition to the MacGregor clan, his niece Caitrina. A few times while he spoke, the pure joy and longing in her eyes made Colin ready to surrender all to her. He had to rein in his heart and think logically. He shouldn’t have taken her body, but at least he’d kept his seed from her, ensuring that in the event of his death, she would have no more bairns out of wedlock. Aye, he intended to fight. He had
to, especially if war came to the Highlands.

  “Edmund will hate having to leave.”

  He wasn’t certain he’d heard her right. “Why would ye leave?”

  She looked away, trying to shield her sudden melancholy behind her thick lashes. “There will be no reason to remain there if I can convince William that I…”

  William? What the hell did he have to do with her anymore? Colin should tell her the damned truth. That William was a merciless bastard who’d once ordered the death of an abbey full of nuns, and that he intended to stop the prince from gaining the throne and doing the same to every other Catholic in the kingdom. He’d meant to tell her earlier, when he thought she would be content to live with him at Camlochlin. When he thought she had given up her hope in the man he came to destroy. “Gillian.” He cupped her face in his hands and prayed she saw what she meant to him in his eyes. He had no talent with words, the way Finn did. How could he tell her that he’d known from the moment he stepped foot in Dartmouth, that her hope in her prince was lost?

  Someone rapping at the door startled her out of his arms. She sat bolt upright in the bed even as he reached for her.

  “We are retiring, MacGregor,” Gates called from the other side. “I’ve come to escort Gillian to her room.”

  “I’ll see to it myself, Captain,” Colin called back to him when she didn’t object. “And I’ll have a private word with ye about it tomorrow.”

  Silence clung to the room while Gates considered his options. Then he said, “Very well. Tomorrow then. Good eve, Gillian.”

  “Good eve, George,” Gillian called back, her cheeks ablaze in the flickering light. She looked at Colin watching her and her smile grew along with his.

  “So”—his voice dipped, along with his gaze when he leaned in to kiss her, forgetting about William and wars—“ye want to spend the night with me then?”

  “As many nights as we can,” she whispered back.

  Endless, infinite nights if he had his way.

  “I will win ye, lass,” he told her, growing hard against her thigh.

  “You already have, Highlander.” She licked the crease in his chin and then kissed his lower lip.

  She moved like a sensual whisper beneath him, firing up his blood, searing his veins. He took her slowly this time, kissing her with slow, deliberate leisure that quickened her breath and made her tremble for more. He feasted on the supple warmth of her breasts and the tight buds peaking each. His cock, between her legs, ached, but he did not rush into her.

  He wasn’t prepared when she pushed on his shoulders and rolled him onto his back, but he liked it. When she straddled him, nestling the shaft of his cock against her scalding sheath, he was tempted to pull her back by the wrists and impale her to the hilt.

  “Such a powerful warrior,” she purred, running her hands over his chest and undulating her hips, “powerless beneath me.”

  Colin bent his knees on either side of her and slid his palms over her buttocks. Naked male desire curled his lips as he shifted her position an inch and then thrust the full length of his dripping cock deep into her.

  “Oh!” She gasped over him, clutching his shoulders, her long hair falling around her face. “You are not so powerless after all.”

  Colin didn’t care about power, only taking her more deeply, getting enough of her to satisfy the hunger that consumed him. Coiling one arm around her waist, he held her close while he guided her rump up and down his stiff, scalding erection until he almost burst inside her.

  He pulled her mouth to his and thrust his tongue inside, matching the deep gyrations that heaved her upward. When she bit his lip, he rolled her onto her back, without withdrawing from her, and spread her legs wide beneath him. He watched her accept him, enjoy him, and he marveled at the wonder of her exquisite beauty. When her muscles tightened and convulsed around him and she cried out in her ecstasy, he tossed back his head and reached down deep to delay his own eruption.

  “You love me,” she said sometime later, wrapped in his arms, “but you will not claim me.”

  He had already claimed her. According to the law of the Highlands, she was his if he wished it. And he did. Aye, he wanted her to be his wife, his and no one else’s, forever. But he had to tell her the truth first. Och, hell, when had he become such a coward?

  “Gillian, there is a war coming. I—”

  “Don’t speak it!” She leaned up on her elbow and pressed her fingers to his mouth. “Tell me you will leave Geoffrey’s service. Even if you don’t want me after this, the thought of you dying in battle…”

  “I do want ye.”

  “I couldn’t go on if you perished,” she continued, not hearing him. “According to Geoffrey, the prince has so far assembled more than three hundred ships. One less mercenary will make no difference.”

  Colin’s face remained impassive despite his thudding heart. More than three hundred ships so far? Och, the battle would be a great one. “What else has Geoffrey told ye?”

  She shrugged, clearly not interested in the dealing of politics. “The prince needs funding for the invasion and has secretly taken up negotiations with burgomasters in Amsterdam. He has also sent an envoy to Vienna to ensure the support of the Holy Roman Emperor, Leopold the First.”

  Colin felt sickened that the church would side with William. He wasn’t surprised though. Truly, James had become a tyrant to the people… and to him.

  “So you see?” she continued. “You are not needed.”

  He shook his head, battling the voice in his head that mercilessly reminded him that this was what he’d been waiting for all his life. “King Louis of France will send ships to aid England. William’s three hundred ships will not be enough to ensure his victory.”

  She turned away to hide the glimmering blue of her eyes. “Forgive me. I have no right to ask this of you. I know you’re loyal to William, as am I.”

  He wasn’t loyal to William and he wished she wasn’t either. He could tell her every coldblooded thing he knew about the prince. He could assure her that William cared only for his own gain and would likely never agree to help her in anything she asked. But he didn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to cause her more disappointment. “Ask what ye will of me,” he said quietly instead.

  She returned her dreadful gaze to him only for an instant before closing her eyes. “Let the war be fought without you.”

  Could he? What would it mean for his kin if he deserted the king? What did it say about him that he was lying there considering such a thing? But he was. For her. Sadly, King James had become what Colin despised most in men of power. The desire for self-aggrandizement, even at the cost of those they swore before God to protect. But the king was the father of Rob’s wife, Davina—and that made him kin. As such, and since his decisions would affect his daughter, he was less likely to bring hardship and war to the northern clans, whether over religious laws or political ones. Colin had to fight this war to ensure his kin’s safety… and now she and Edmund were a part of them.

  “My enemy threatens the things that matter most in my heart,” he told her truthfully. “If I have the power to stop him, should I not try?”

  She nodded and drew closer to him once again. “Aye, I suppose you should. Tell me,” she said, fitting her leg neatly between his and holding him closer, “what matters most in your heart?”

  “My freedom.”

  She nodded against his chest, then kissed it. “Freedom to do what?”

  “To choose the way I want to live, to believe what I want without fear of consequence.”

  “I would fight for that too.”

  “Ye have,” he told her softly. “And ye’ve won.”

  They slept for a time after that. Once, Gillian had awakened from dreams of losing Edmund. Colin held her close, promising that he would never allow it. He watched her while she returned to more pleasant dreams, studying the rhythm of her breath, the shape of her mouth, the curve of her nose. He hoped the women at home wouldn’t be envious of he
r beauty, but he suspected ’twas a foolish hope. She stole the breath from his body and made his heart all soft and pliant.

  He woke her twice, unable to keep his hands from touching her. She didn’t protest, or accuse him of being the beast his stamina proved him to be. She took him fully, deeply, matching his fervor on her back, on her knees, draped across his chest while he took her from behind, and later, with her back pressed against the wall.

  Twice he almost didn’t withdraw, almost gave in to the temptation of casting his glorious battle to the four winds and living out the rest of his days herding sheep and fathering bairns with Gillian.

  Twice he almost surrendered it all with one momentous thrust.

  Almost.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Gillian woke from a dream of Colin to find him already out of bed and tying the laces of his breeches. He smiled at her from across the room while she stretched and then blushed, recalling the night they had spent together. It was magical. It was… It was morning! Edmund was leaving her today! She sat up, crying his name and pulling on her chemise.

  Colin was there instantly. “I willna’ keep ye from him long, lass. He’ll be safe. Ye both will.”

  “I know,” she said, pressed to his chest. “But what will I do without him until we are reunited?”

  He withdrew to scald her insides with a provocative quirk of his mouth. She blushed softly, loving him for so easily taking her mind off the day ahead. Lord, but he was an amazing, insatiable lover. Of course, she had only Reginald Blount to compare him with, but it didn’t matter. The pleasure she’d experienced with Colin was like nothing else in her life. He exhilarated her with his body and conquered her heart in his passionate embrace. She never wanted to be parted from him. The idea of it was as terrifying as losing Edmund.

  “When you are done fighting…”

  “Aye?” he pressed gently when she grew quiet.

  “I would wait for you. That is, if you wanted me to.”