Loving Two Highlanders

by Loving Two Highlanders (lit)

“He’s your husband.”

  Her glance darted frantically. She busied herself rearranging the things in the basket. “He was my husband when he ordered me out of his room, when he refused to even consider trying to make this marriage work. He was also my husband when he practically handed me to a stranger. I begged him, Sam. I warned him. He said…”

  She bit down on her lip, trying to hold the tears back.

  “I know what he said,” Sam said, “but he’s obviously realized the mistake of it.”

  “Mistake?” she cried. “It’s too late for that! Sam, I’ve…I can’t even tell you.”

  “I know what’s been happening in this house,” Sam said, “and I’ve warned against it.”

  “You know?” Megan wailed.

  “Aye, it doesn’t make a bit of difference to me, darling girl.” He swept a hand down her cheek. “I love you, Meggie. I will always love you, but that doesn’t change the way things are.”

  “How are they, Sam?” she asked softly. “Please tell me because I don’t understand any of it.”

  “You’re the man’s wife, Meggie.” He caught her face between his big hands and forced her head up. “And he’s waiting for you.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Be what you are, Meggie. Be his wife. You’ve a bit of talking to do between you.” He stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Now, I’m off to the tavern.”

  Megan lurched to her feet. “But Alex isn’t here either. What if Trevor needs help?”

  He smiled. “He won’t need help. In fact, Meggie, I think you’re in for a wonderful surprise.” He grabbed his hat from the peg and disappeared out the door.

  Megan ran her damp palms down her skirt. She gnawed on her lip for a moment, steeling herself to go to her husband. What she’d begged for, hoped for had finally happened, and she was terrified.

  She pressed against the door and pushed it open to find a single candle lit on the small table beside the bed she’d shared with her husband until recently. In the glow of its flame, she saw Trevor sat on the edge, his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. When she stepped into the room, his face swiveled toward her, and he smiled.

  “I hoped you’d come.”

  “I’m your wife, Trevor,” she said softly.

  He held out his hand, and she went to him. He grasped her hand in a surprisingly strong grip and tugged her closer. She stared down at their entwined fingers.

  “Trevor? What’s happened?”

  “A miracle of sorts, I think.” He took her hand and pressed it against the soft fabric of his shirt. “Can you feel that?”

  She nearly snatched her hand away. So many times she’d felt her husband’s heartbeat, so many times she feared that each fast thump would be his last. She dropped to her knees between his spread thighs and pressed her hand tighter.

  “It feels steady…strong…normal,” she whispered.

  “Aye. ’Tis Campbell’s doing. He created a medicine, something powerful, something that I think has made me better. Though I fear he had to sacrifice some of your flowers.”

  Megan lifted her face as a tear dripped down her cheek. “He can have the whole damn garden.” She ran her hands up her husband’s chest until she reached his shoulders, gripping him hard. “Trevor, what does this mean?”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged her up his body, lying back on the bed. She felt the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed steadily, easily beneath her. He swept his hands through her hair, tugging the strands away from her face.

  “It means, love, that I can try to be a husband for you.” He pulled her down and kissed her mouth, a gentle kiss that Megan felt to her bones. “If that’s what you want.”

  She nodded and watched a tear splash on his face. He smiled. “Aye, Trevor. That’s what I want.”

  He ran a hand down the length of her body, then returned to cup her breast in his hand. “Then kiss me, wife.”

  She didn’t hesitate. She locked her mouth over his, her tongue sweeping inside to find the warmth of the man she’d loved for three years, the husband she’d thought she’d lost. She raked her hands through the long strands of his hair, cupping his head and slanting her lips across his. He rolled her over and swept his hand under her dress, his fingers sliding up her thigh to the warmth between her legs.

  “I want us to make a child, Meg.” He pressed kisses across her face. “I don’t know if this is permanent. Campbell thinks it will be, but he doesnae know for sure. I hope…I want to take advantage of every moment we have.”

  She fumbled for a moment with the ties of his breeches, pulling the laces, then pushing the fabric down his hips. He cupped his hand over her mound, causing a soft sigh to escape from her lips. She arched against him, and he slid a finger inside her, pressing deep, curling gently to rub against the pulsing inside her. Her pussy clenched around his finger as she wrapped her fingers around his cock. Oh, she remembered the feel of it.

  Trevor groaned and ground into her hand at the same time he withdrew his finger and slid two inside of her. A familiar ache settled in Megan’s pelvis, a deep throb that demanded more depth, more force. She rocked her hips against his hand as his palm rubbed against her clit, creating a burn that spread from the small nub of flesh and spiraled throughout her body. She tensed beneath him and shuddered as she came hard against his hand. He thrust his fingers harder into her, and she closed her eyes as waves of pulsating pleasure tore through her with dazzling speed.

  She struggled for a breath, opening her eyes to find him staring at her with a soft smile.

  “’Tis what I’ve hoped to see at least once before I left this earth.”

  “What?”

  “The pleasure on your face as you came beneath my hand. ’Tis something I’ve thought of for years. I should not have been so gentle with you, Meg. ’Tis a great mistake I’ve made holding you so far away.”

  She wound her arms around his neck and buried her face into his neck. She locked her mouth on his skin and sucked gently. His heartbeat sped up, but it wasn’t danger she felt thundering against her chest. It was desire, lust, passion.

  “Then hold me closer, Trevor.” She reached between them and stroked her palm up and down his cock, delighting in the smooth, hard skin beneath her hand. The moisture that beaded the tip spread over their flesh. “Lift my skirt. Put your cock inside me.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Fuck me like a wife deserves.”

  He swept her skirt higher, and she guided his cock between her pussy lips. With one thrust he buried deep, so deep, and her muscles tightened around him. She wrapped her legs around his and yanked him closer.

  “I like it hard, Trevor,” she whispered. “It’s something I’ve discovered recently. Can you drive into me hard?”

  “Aye, love. As hard as you like.”

  He rose slightly, then slammed into her, forcing her body to slide on the mattress. He cupped her face and smothered her mouth with his kiss as he drove into her again and again. His cock slid along that magical place inside her that created a burning friction. Her muscles tensed as she relished each pulse and flutter in her body, the shivers that ran rampant through her nerves, and the wonderful, warm tongue that stole into her mouth.

  Her pussy throbbed with an urgent beat, contracting rhythmically on his cock. She arched her back as the tide of sensation crested and rolled through her, causing her body to tremble and a laugh to explode from her mouth. Trevor groaned, and his body slammed into hers one final time. She felt the flood of him as he came inside her, the pulse of his fluid that hopefully would bring them the future they craved.

  When he rose to his elbows, a bead of sweat dropped from Trevor’s forehead and splashed against her face. He wiped it away with an apologetic smile, then grinned.

  “I didnae die.”

  “No, you didn’t. How do you feel?”

  He dropped a soft kiss on her mouth, his lips tugging at hers. “I feel like a husband. Do you feel like a wife?”

 
; She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down close to her. “I feel like a very satisfied wife.” They lay quietly for a few moments. She felt Trevor’s heart gradually return to a calm, regular beat.

  “Do you love him, Meg?” She stiffened for a moment, but he caressed her arm. “Shhh, ’tis only a question.”

  “It’s one I didn’t expect,” she whispered.

  He rose up on his elbow and peered into her eyes. She had a hard time meeting his gaze, but she managed to hold it. “Aye, I know, but ’tis one I’d like an answer to. ’Twould help if you were honest with me.”

  “It’s not an easy question.”

  “Aye, ’tis an easiest a question as there can ever be. Be brave, Meg. Tell me what lies in your heart.”

  She took a deep breath, and her fingers curled around a strand of his hair. “You know everything that’s my heart.”

  “No, ’tis not true. I need to know if Campbell holds a place there.”

  “He does,” she said softly.

  He kissed her trembling mouth. “Was that so hard?”

  “What happens now?”

  “I must give it some thought, but you must remember something, Meg. Everything I do in this life is because of my love for you. Even those things that might seem…odd. Will you trust me?”

  “Aye, Trevor, I trust you always.”

  Chapter 11

  It was way close to dawn now. She’d lain next to her husband, listening to his strong, even breaths, then she left her husband’s bed to find another.

  She moved through the storage room, thinking to check his small room for the hundredth time that evening, when she heard the distinctive sound of the shop door opening. She stood in the shadows and watched Alex stand undecided for several moments as though wondering if he should stay or go. He leaned against the half-open door, and his blank stare drifted around the room.

  He finally closed the door and leaned back against it for a moment, as though that simple decision had used every thought in his head. Swaying a little, he pushed away from the door, stumbling slightly as he shrugged out of his coat, tossing it onto a chair. He tried to open the collar of his shirt, but the simple ties seemed to be more trouble than they were worth because he finally just ripped them, yanked the shirt over his head, and dropped it to the floor.

  He moved in a meandering path through the shop, his boots knocking against the wood. After tossing a log into the hearth, he watched for a minute as the dying embers sparked furiously at the disturbance. He didn’t seem to care when they spit toward his boots and dropped to the stones. When the log teetered precariously, he gave it a casual kick, and a torrent of flashing sparks swarmed upwards, shooting toward him like disgruntled fireflies. For one moment his face was bathed in light. He looked angry and a little drunk. No, a lot drunk.

  Alex nearly tripped over the wall when he aimed for the gate, but his clumsiness didn’t deter him. When he started toward his bed, he paused, staring at the dark ceiling. He headed toward a shelf in the back, and she knew what he had on his mind. Getting drunker. He grabbed a bottle and pulled the cork out with more strength than necessary, splashing it when the bottle jerked. He licked the liquid off his hand.

  He tipped back his head and poured some down his throat, swallowing large gulps. When he pulled it from his lips, the bottle was half empty. He wiped his hand across his mouth, then cocked his head, listening for something she couldn’t hear. His quiet voice coiled around her.

  “I don’t like you spying on me, Megan.”

  For one moment she almost ran. She stood perfectly still, willing him to take another drink and forget she existed.

  “And don’t think you can hide from me. I can smell you. As you can see I’ve returned home like a good boy. Now that you know, go away.”

  She cautiously stepped into the shop. He had his back to her, but she saw him take another pull from the bottle.

  “It’s almost morning. Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?”

  “No. I’ve not had nearly enough. Not yet. I’m still standing.”

  “Barely,” she muttered.

  He ignored her. He clutched his bottle and wound his way through the shop once again. Knowing it was probably one of the worst decisions she’d ever made, but unable to stop, she followed and watched from the shop as he went through the gate and dropped into one chair, propping his legs on another.

  She ran her hands along the wooden banister and over to her desk. She shuffled some paperwork, peering at him through the dim light. For some reason, she was afraid to go any closer. He looked relaxed, a man enjoying the small comforts of a fire and a drink, but when she studied his face, she saw he was anything but relaxed. His profile looked stern, angry. His mouth was set in a hard line, and his jaw clenched so tight she saw a muscle twitching in his cheek. His posture made her defensive.

  “You’ve certainly made yourself at home here,” she said. “Does Trevor know you’re drinking his whiskey?”

  “No, though I doubt Trevor will care about a little whiskey when I’m fucking his wife.”

  “He couldn’t know for sure.”

  Alex grunted, shaking his shoulders, and Megan had a disturbing vision of a bear roused in its den. It might appear sleepy, but it was still very dangerous. “MacGregor isnae blind or deaf and, though you might wish it so, he’s not stupid. The man doesnae spy as well as you, but he knows.”

  Megan flipped open a ledger. She recognized her own handwriting, but all the words on the page looked like Greek. She had no idea why she’d come in here.

  “I wasn’t really spying, you know,” she said. “I was worried about you.”

  “When you’re lurking in the shadows, wench, ’tis called spying,” Alex said. “Worry is a sorry excuse for what you’ve done because you’ve no right to worry about me at all.”

  “You’ve been gone most of the night.”

  Alex shook his shoulders again as though shaking off an irritating touch. He took another drink. “I’m not a fucking child, nor am I your wayward husband.”

  “I didn’t mean…”

  He shifted on the chair and tossed the hair away from his face. She wasn’t sure what bothered her more, the glare from his eyes or the tone he used to answer. Both made her want to hide under the desk.

  “Then what exactly did you mean?”

  She sought refuge in his drunkenness, hoping to sound concerned. “In your condition, anything could have happened.”

  He shot another caustic look toward her. “But you didnae know of my condition, lass, until I walked through the door. In case you hadnae noticed, I’m a grown man, and I’ve survived far worse than this losing battle with the bottle I’m engaged in now. Christ, I cannae even fall into a bloody stupor. I’ve had a barrelful, and I’m still standing.”

  “Sitting actually,” Megan said.

  He rolled his gorgeous green eyes, and Megan wished they weren’t arguing. “I’m trying to tell you, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’m not a pretty piece of fluff like you that needs a husband, and a friend, and a lover to get her through the day.”

  Why did he always know the exact thing to say to spark her anger? She approached the gate and swung it open, banged it open, actually, and was more than pleased when he nearly fell off his chair. She had taken several steps toward him when she’d realized what she’d done but there was nothing left but retreat, and she couldn’t do that, not with a man like Alexander Campbell. He glanced at her from beneath heavy lids, and she raised her chin.

  “Did you mean to start a fight with me tonight?” she asked.

  “I didnae mean to do anything. I came home after a rather enjoyable evening and expected to fall into bed and the sweet oblivion of sleep. I drank just enough to do that, but it seems my plans have changed. What did you have on your mind? A quick fuck? I’m a little tired, and a little drunk, but I’m pretty sure I can accommodate you.”

  He stood up and tugged at the laces of his breeches. Megan made
her most disgusted noise and held up her hand. Alex cocked his head.

  “No?” he asked. “Well, ’tis your loss then. You seem slightly tense. I thought perhaps you had a need to relieve some stress. I was actually relaxed until I walked back in here and found you skulking about like a forgotten—”

  “I thought you didn’t want to fight with me,” Meg said.

  “Finding you waiting for me like a wife grates on my last nerve. If I’m to be plagued with your nagging and worry and concern, and I’m not going to get even a fuck out of it, then I imagine I’ll just have to fight. And drink a whole lot more.”

  He dropped back into the chair and slid farther down. He tilted the bottle to his lips, then paused. His watery gaze drifted toward her, peering at her through strands of hair. He lifted the bottle and held it toward her.

  “Did you want some? This conversation might be easier if we’re both drunk.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “You might want to reconsider. I’ve a few things to say to you, and you might not like them.”

  “I’ll risk it,” she said. “Keep your bloody bottle. With the mood you’re in, there’s barely enough there for you. I would not be accused of stealing your comfort.”

  “Well, a man must find his comfort where he can.” He winked at her, then without hesitation, poured some more whiskey down his throat.

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  He planted the bottle between his legs, and his head fell back. He raked his hands through his hair, staring at the ceiling.

  “Enough whiskey dulls the mind,” he said, “and makes thinking certain thoughts less troubling.”

  “You’ll not have a thought left in your head by morning.”

  “’Twas the idea,” he said. “I had some other ideas tonight, ways to empty my head, but even those things didnae work as well as I’d hoped.”

  She took a step toward him, and he straightened up, eyeing her suspiciously. Something made him shrink back in the chair, and his hands slid up the armrests to grip tightly.

  “What’s wrong, Alex?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “Bloody hell, Megan. Are you going to ask me the same fucking question every time we’re alone? Christ, can a man not even have a moment’s peace around here? If I want to get good and goddamned drunk, ’tis not your bloody business, woman.”