Loving Two Highlanders

by Loving Two Highlanders (lit)

  “I might not,” she murmured.

  He reached toward her, and she must have lost all her sanity because she made no move against him. Sanity would have dictated she turn and run. Instead, she stood perfectly still and watched as his finger traced a line down the swell of her breast and over the nipple that strained against her bodice. Megan closed her eyes and shivered.

  “I’m married, Master Campbell,” she whispered.

  His eyes focused on her breast, watching as his finger stroked and coaxed the flesh beneath into a hard pearl under his finger. Even as he spoke, his eyes roamed over her skin.

  “So you keep saying,” he said. “Maybe you could come up with something a little more original. That excuse isnae working for me anymore.”

  Megan heard a laugh explode from her and it shocked the hell out of her. “It hasn’t worked at all!”

  “Because, lucky for you, I’m a persistent man.”

  His hand cupped beneath her breast, lifting the weight in the palm of his hand.

  “Your marriage doesnae make a difference to me, and I’m starting to think it doesnae make a difference to you.” He lifted his eyes and peered at her through strands of wet hair. “Tell me this contract between you and MacGregor makes a difference in how you feel about me.”

  “I can’t say that, but it has to.”

  “Saying it willnae convince either of us. I cannae stay away from you…and you cannae stay away from me.”

  “I already have,” she whispered, “mostly. You’ve been here three weeks now.”

  He tilted his head, and he peered at her, his green eyes alive with a curious interest. “Aye, you’ve managed well enough. So far. But soon you’ll begin to unravel, Megan. ’Tis just a matter of time before you seek me out because you willnae be able to resist what you crave.”

  “What do you think I crave?”

  “Me.” His dark brows lifted. He took a step closer, and his hand folded over the swell of her breast. “You’re a beautiful woman, Mistress MacGregor, and you’re married to a man that cannae give you what you deserve. Did you share his bed last night?”

  “Aye,” she said.

  “Did he fuck you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Did you ask for it?” he asked.

  Megan met his eyes, and a surprising compassion lurked there. She’d not thought the man capable of an emotion so strong. What happened between her and Trevor had nothing to do with this man, and yet she found herself answering his question because he seemed concerned for her.

  “No, I’ve never asked. I’ve offered, and he’s done it several times.”

  “’Tis not an act done to you, Megan. ’Tis a communion between two bodies, a gift bestowed upon another. So he’s fucked you several times this week? I’d not thought—”

  She blinked. “Several times this week? Is that even possible?”

  The smile that shadowed his face made her heart skip a beat. “The possibility of several times an hour exists if you find the right man. When was the last time he fucked you, then, lass?”

  “That is hardly the kind of question you should ask a lady, and my husband wouldn’t like it.”

  “Your husband brought it up,” he said.

  Megan’s legs simply gave out. One moment she was standing, and the next she fell to her knees. Campbell must have had a little mercy in his heart because he dropped down next to her. The other possibility would have sent her into stark-raving lunacy. If anyone saw her kneeling in front of him, naked, his cock jutting toward her, she would die of embarrassment. As it was, his cock thrust eagerly toward her, too near her body, too near for any amount of comfort. As ludicrous as the entire conversation was, he had been right about one thing. She wanted to taste it. Right now taking him deep in her mouth was all she could think of.

  “Seems we should get this out in the open.” Campbell tilted his head and lifted her chin. “I’ve had several conversations with your husband, and it sounds as though you’ve not had much of a marriage.”

  “My husband loves me,” she whispered.

  “Aye, he does, but sometimes love is not enough. If he’s not able to prove it to you, then you’ve been cheated, and he admitted as much to me. When was the last time he fucked you?”

  “Last winter,” she whispered.

  “Christ Jesus.” He rubbed between his eyes as though she had given him a headache. “And was it satisfactory?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Did you come like you did with me?”

  “No,” she said softly, “but our marriage has been consummated. It’s binding, lawful. What does it matter how many times we’ve…” Her words trailed off because she could not bring herself to say it.

  “Fucked,” he said.

  Megan ran her hands over her hot face. “Is that the only word you know, Campbell? We…” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “We fucked a few times in the beginning, then less and less as Trevor’s health declined.”

  “A few times? In three years?” Campbell shook his head. “A woman like you should be fucked every day, lass. More. Your flesh trembles with want. I can feel the need in you.”

  “Do you still have needs, Master Campbell?”

  “Before I had you, I’d not fucked a woman in nearly a year. I was barely alive for want of it. ’Tis safe to say, madam, that we will likely kill one another if we continue to fuck. I’d say the passion threatens to consume us. But if we ignore what we want, we willnae be able to take it.”

  “What you’re implying we do is just not possible,” she said. “I can’t take a lover for my own selfish needs.”

  “He said you will,” Campbell said.

  “He said that?” she whispered.

  He smoothed the hair away from her face. “He told me ’tis my responsibility now, Megan, to give you what you deserve. And if there’s a child—”

  “What about a child?”

  “If I get you with child, he’ll grant my freedom.”

  “Oh, God, Campbell.” The blood drained from her face. She felt it steal her strength as the bottom fell out of her world. “He chose you, out of all the men he’s known, out of all the men on every ship that’s ever arrived here, he chose you.”

  “Aye, lass.”

  “He chose you for me?”

  “Seems so, Megan.”

  Meagan swayed slightly and clapped a hand to her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick, Campbell.”

  “Now, lass, ’tis not as bad as all that,” he said softly. “He could have chosen worse. Have you seen what comes off those ships? I’m hardy, healthy, and disease-free. I’m a born survivor, lass, reasonably bright, amusing, well liked in some places, feared in others. When I commit to a cause, I stay committed, and when I find a friend, I keep him for life. I’ve a talent for carpentry, warfare, and, of late, bookbinding. I’ve also, well, this.”

  His eyes shifted downward, and Megan’s followed, her face burning. His cock still stood erect and proud, another asset to ponder in this impossible scenario.

  “’Tis always been welcomed among the ladies, and I’ve fathered my share of children. I could give you a blessed child with many fine attributes.”

  She pursed her lips. “And several liabilities.”

  “Liabilities?” His brows drew down then he smiled, cocking his head. “Like what, lass? Do your worst.”

  “Your unwavering pride and arrogance, for two, not to mention your sense of entitlement. You seem to think I should agree to this because you’ve offered your perfect self up for sacrifice. What a lucky girl I am to know such a noble man.”

  Campbell laughed. “Indeed, lass, luckier than most.”

  She offered him a small smile. “I didn’t hear humble on your list either.”

  “’Cause I’m not, but don’t forget I’m well favored. You said as much.”

  She nodded weakly, trying to control the roiling of her stomach. He waited patiently, his arms across his thighs. The man had amazing balance,
strength, and a stunning, lusty body. He also managed to stay in pretty good humor for a man shipped to the far side of the Earth with no real future for the next seven years. A man like this could father a very well-favored child. She wondered what Alexander Campbell had been like in his life before he’d chosen to fight for a lost cause.

  Despite the fact that Campbell offered everything she could ever want in the father of her child, the thought of gaining a child from a bargain such as this filled her with dread. She would have the child she craved, but what would happen to her, to their child, on the day he boarded a ship, waved good-bye and sailed from their lives forever? How would she deal with the aftermath of that when, with the sun’s rise each morning, she had begun to crave the sight of him?

  When she thought she might be able to control her need to vomit, she risked a glance at him. Campbell gave her a smile.

  “You don’t want me?” He shook his head. “Pity. After listening to my words, I’d want myself if that was possible.”

  Megan sighed. “It doesn’t have anything to do with want. Any woman would want you. It’s a violation of my marriage contract, my vows, the promises I’ve made.”

  His fingers trapped her chin, raising her face.

  “I asked a simple question. I want a simple answer. Do you want me?”

  “Aye, Campbell, I want you. But it would be better if I didn’t. What Trevor wants us to do isn’t right.”

  “Doesnae matter to him, lass. He’s determined, and ’tis no hardship for me. I hoped it wouldnae be a hardship for you.”

  “It isn’t,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean I can do it.”

  She wrenched her face away from his warm hand.

  “I know you’re not happy about this,” he said. “Neither am I, to tell the truth. I don’t like being the man’s whore, but the faster we get started, the faster I can get out of your life. I want my freedom, and I want to return to Scotland. The only way to get it is between your legs.”

  “And that’s all there is to be between us? This impossible bargain?”

  “What else can there be, lass?”

  “I don’t know, but what if—?”

  He ran a finger down her cheek. “Shh, Megan. We cannae have ‘what ifs’. ’Twill do neither of us any good. The only difference between us is I’m bound for seven years, instead of life, and I don’t share his bed.”

  “But if I share your bed, you can break free.”

  “’Tis the way of it,” he said.

  Megan blinked back a tear. “And what do I get again?”

  “A chance to enjoy yourself for a while,” Campbell said, “and a child if we’re lucky and I do my job right. Would you like a child?”

  “Aye, very much.”

  “Then I’ll work very hard to get you one.” The smile he gave her made her stomach flutter. “’Twill not be a burden, lass. I cannae resist you.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve talked with Trevor about me. I don’t think that’s appropriate, not at all. I mean, a conversation between my husband and my—”

  She sank closer to the ground and buried her head in her hands. She was aware of him leaning toward her, trying to see between her cupped fingers. She peeked. There was a smile on his face, a tiny smirk. Oh, she’d done it now. She’d given him every reason to pursue her, to think that eventually she’d cave to his will, to expect her to acquiesce.

  “Your what?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she mumbled. “I don’t know what I’m saying anymore, Campbell. You have me tied in knots. I can’t concentrate. I can’t bloody think when you’re around me.”

  He wrapped his big hands around her face and simply manhandled her head up and forced her to look at him. “Your what?” he repeated.

  Her hesitant voice was almost a whisper. “My lover.”

  For one moment he sucked in a breath, holding it so long she feared she’d said the most damaging thing she could have said, but he finally released it in the long, gentle sigh of a man at the end of an impossibly long journey. The tiny smirk widened, and something like happiness flickered on his face. It was so different from all the looks she had seen. She had seen him joking with Sam, laughing with Trevor, even smiling at her, but this look was unique. He looked like a small boy that had been given a present for no reason other than someone wanted to make him happy.

  She gave him a little shove because knowing she’d put that look on his face made her feel funny, a little bit happy, and she couldn’t afford that feeling right now. “Forget it, Campbell.”

  He held his balance and laughed. “I cannae, lass. Each time you allow yourself a thought like that, I am closer to the Highlands.”

  She started to struggle to her feet, but her shoe got tangled in her dress. She caught herself against his thigh, and her hand slid between his legs. Immediately the warmth of him surrounded her like a seductive lure. She leaned closer, and he ran his arm around her waist, dipping down to rub the swell of her bottom in one palm. He ducked his head to peer into her eyes. The man should have been ashamed to even have the conversation, let alone touch her so intimately, but Alexander Campbell gazed at her with absolutely no shame. She saw curiosity in his eyes.

  “Would you like to touch me?”

  “Aye.”

  The muscles of his throat moved as he struggled with his next word.

  “Where?” he asked.

  “Everywhere.”

  “Then I’ll let you.”

  He lifted her up and held her elbow to be sure she was steady. That disturbing sickness rolled through her again. Being near him was not good for her. Not good at all.

  “You’re to come to supper,” she said. “To our table.”

  “Aye, mistress. I’ll come. And later? You’ll come to me?”

  “I need to think, Campbell,” Megan said softly. “What he wants could kill everything inside me.”

  “Everything inside you is dying already, lass.”

  “Then I might have to let it die.”

  “And I’m to die with you? Waste away here until there is nothing for me at all?”

  “I wouldn’t want that to happen,” Megan said, “but I don’t know if I can trade my soul for yours.”

  Chapter 8

  Alex walked slowly toward the door that would lead him to her world, not at all sure what to expect. Trevor’s and Sam’s voices drifted through the storage room and drew him along, luring him closer because he was eager to join in. He enjoyed the company of these men. MacGregor was a man of great intelligence and humor, and Sam, though ordinarily quiet, was quick to laugh and make light of most situations. He often wondered what frame of mind Trevor MacGregor would find himself in if it wasn’t for Tinsdale’s unfailing good humor.

  Alex supposed he could get through the evening well enough. He would just pretend Megan wasn’t in the room. He would ignore her completely unless she spoke directly to him, which given the tension between them at times, was bloody unlikely to happen.

  Tonight he’d let her set the tone, but starting tomorrow he would make getting into her bed a mission. He would lay a battle plan, set a strategy, and pursue his target. He would be his usual charming self, maybe woo her a little, court her, tell her how beautiful she was, touch her intimately, but not too boldly. He’d not mention a husband, or fucking, or children, or Scotland. In a matter of weeks, if all went according to plan, she’d beg for him. It would be better that way, because he could shake the burden of blame away from himself if he knew she really wanted it.

  She may be ambivalent about the bargain, but Megan MacGregor didn’t know who she dealt with. Alexander Campbell had never lost a battle until Dunbar, and that, goddamn it, had not been his fault. He would wear the enemy down until she surrendered.

  When he stepped through the doorway, he soon learned what tone would be set for the evening. When Megan heard his foot hit the threshold, she whirled around in a flurry of rosy skirt, hair flying, clutching a spoon tightly in her fist as though she would strike him wit
h it. The spoon knocked a pan loose from its peg. The clang of it, first hitting the hearthstones and then the floor, made Sam lurch to his feet, and his big hand swept a mug of wine off the table and into MacGregor’s lap. Soaked and startled, MacGregor cried out and leaned precariously in his chair. Megan screamed, and she and Alex both ran across the room at the same time and collided, slipping in the spilled wine.

  They landed on the floor—Alex on his ass and Megan stretched across his lap like a child about to be punished. MacGregor burst into laughter, and Sam soon followed. Alex wasn’t much in the mood to laugh with a wench sprawled across his lap. Just the feel of her made his cock rise. Her bottom was a dangerous temptation, round and full and way too close for comfort. His hands hovered over her for a minute as he wondered exactly what he should do. If he pushed her off, it would be obvious where his thoughts had strayed, and if he kept her there, the problem was going to grow. It was growing now…

  Mistress Megan must have felt the sudden rise of his cock because he heard a tiny whimper pass her lips. Her head dropped down and actually thumped against the floor. He caught her round the waist and flipped her over, tugging her close.

  “If you wished to be in my arms, madam, you had only to ask,” he said. “There was no reason to risk death to all.”

  When MacGregor burst into gales of laughter and Sam nearly choked, Megan blushed as deep as her rose-colored dress, and her eyes narrowed, spitting cold blue fire at him. While they stared at one another, Sam helped MacGregor out of his chair and led him to an adjoining room. Alex watched to see which door they entered. Megan shoved at his chest, tiny little pushes that meant absolutely nothing.

  He arched against her, pressing his cock against her hip, and leaned down to whisper into her ear. “Do you feel that, Megan?”

  She nodded imperceptively, her eyes darting toward the closed door.

  “’Tis for you,” he said softly, “if you’ll come to me tonight. If you don’t want to come to me, I’ll come to you.”

  “No, you can’t. He’ll know. They’ll hear.”

  “Then promise me you’ll come.”