Highland Wrath

by Madeline Martin

  She gave a frustrated moan and rubbed her body against his. The hair on his chest prickled against her sensitive nipples. She wanted him so damn bad, her body actually ached in thunderous, angry thrums between her legs.

  He set his forehead against hers, and his hand glided down her back. “My beautiful angel.” He whispered against her lips.

  His name for her laced through her heart and softened her knees. How could she have come to love something she so loathed only weeks before?

  “I’m going to love ye.” His lips still moved against hers, close but not kissing. Just as his cock rested against her, close but not rutting.

  She arched against him to encourage his touch. He kissed her lower lip, and his tongue brushed hers. He continued to kiss her in maddening little half-kisses and pressed a hand to her lower back. Holding her to him, he walked forward, driving her to walk back. To the bed.

  They stopped, and his hands smoothed down the sides of her body. The tension winding through her body, the want, the anticipation, it was all so powerful she couldn’t help but cry out at even such a simple touch. He bent over her and kissed her mouth, using lips and tongue and teeth until she was breathless and her head spun in a dizzying rush of need.

  His kisses trailed over her jaw and just under her ear, where his beard rasped against the delicate skin of her neck. Chills of pleasure tingled over her entire body and left everything heightened with the most delicious awareness. Sylvi closed her eyes against the bliss of it all.

  “I love ye, Sylvi.” He nipped her earlobe, and his warm breath washed over her ear. “For yer strength.” He kissed the spot on her neck just below her ear. “Yer determination.” He kissed her neck down to her collarbone. “Yer passion and how much ye care.” He bent over her, his mouth lowering to her breast. “How intelligent ye are.”

  She opened her eyes and found his hot gaze fixed on her.

  “How bonny ye are.” He dragged his tongue over her nipple, and prickling desire clutched her.

  She increased her grip on him with her good arm and wished her other arm could do the same. His body was powerful under her touch, so incredibly strong, so beautiful. Her nipples drew so hard, the sensation of it needled through her. His mouth opened and captured one pink, pert bud between the warmth of his lips.

  Sylvi cried out at the sharp pleasure, and her legs threatened to give. He sucked and licked, teasing her until she felt she might die for wanting him. The hand on her hip descended lower, lower.

  Her mouth went dry.

  Oh God, yes.

  He skimmed the top of her thighs and swept his fingers over the cleft between her legs. Her knees buckled beneath the powerful force of the slightest touch there. Ian’s arm flexed around her waist, and he chuckled. “Lay back, my love.”

  He guided her toward the bed. The covers were cool underneath her, a welcome contrast to the blazing heat flaring through her.

  Finally he would take her. She stared up at him. He was truly a beautiful man. His body hard everywhere, his beard and long, dark hair were just wild enough to appeal to her, his eyes burning with the same intensity sparking through her.

  Beautiful and brave and giving and so much more patient than she deserved.

  He knelt between her parted legs and flashed her a wicked grin. “Lift yer arm.”

  Sylvi lifted her bad arm as his hands ran over her thighs. He gently pulled her toward him so her bottom was near the edge of the bed, his mouth was just over her sex.

  Sylvi’s breathing deepened with anticipation, knowing what he intended. Knowing and welcoming. If it were any bit as pleasant as when he’d sampled her earlier, she just might lose herself to—

  He opened his mouth, and his warm breath teased over her, wiping out all thought. A little sound like a choked moan came from the back of her throat. His lips quirked into an arrogant half smile. And then he licked her.

  Sylvi’s head fell backward against the covers, the pleasure so great, she carefully lowered her arm to the bed and gave in to the sensual ministrations. His tongue slid against her sex again, a long, slow teasing lick that stopped just where her desire was swollen and pounding. He paused and carefully circled the sensitive bud.

  Heat and pleasure, heat and pleasure, heat and wet, delicious pleasure. Sylvi gripped the bed covers and gave in to the storm of sensations. Ian closed his mouth over her once more, his tongue expertly finding that spot again. His beard rasped against her, the sensation adding to his flicking licks. Heat tingled at Sylvi’s feet and hands, her core tightened. She was so close, so close to sliding over the edge and losing herself to his ministrations.

  As if sensing this, he worked with fervor. Heat blasted through her and she splintered apart. She cried out, and her body clenched and unclenched with each powerful wave, eager to be filled. Needing Ian.

  •••

  Never were the cries of a woman more alluring than the ready moans of pleasure from Ian’s angel. He watched the beauty of it play over her face, her parted lips, the flush to her cheeks, the tensing of her brow.

  He would bring her to climax again, but the next time, he wanted to be inside her, with her gaze locked on his. His cock pulsed with desire, so hard, it felt near exploding.

  Sylvi’s pert breasts rose and fell while she caught her breath from the exertion of her release. A sheen of sweat left her beautiful body glossy. Every long, lean muscle was visible, flexing with each pant.

  He got to his knees so the blunt head of his hardness pointed directly at the glistening pink slit of her sex. She was so wet, he knew he could slide right in. The thought alone made his bollocks clench. He gritted his teeth. He needed to calm down lest he lose himself too quickly.

  Agnes’s jowls.

  He breathed deeply.

  Agnes’s jowls.

  Sylvi opened her eyes and stared at him with the heat of her ice-blue eyes.

  Agnes and her jowls be damned. Ian leaned over Sylvi, and his cock nudged between her legs. She watched him with a desperate need burning bright in her eyes. He braced his weight on the bed and flexed his hips forward, easing into her.

  Her wet heat gripped him. Tight. So tight. So good. A growl rasped between Ian’s teeth, and Sylvi gave a little scream of pleasure that almost undid him. He caught a handful of the bed covers in each fist and held on while he plunged into her with long, slow thrusts, careful not to jar her and cause pain in her arm.

  She lifted her injured arm in its brace and arched her hips up to meet him, rolling with each push and pull of his pelvis. He stared down at her, unable to drag his gaze from the way she pressed her tongue between her lips to wet them, and the lift of her brows in pleasure every time he flexed into her. His body burned with the need to push harder and faster, but he resisted. It was not her body he wanted to claim tonight. It was her heart.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, and her grip around his cock tensed further still. Squeezing, squeezing, squeezing with each thrust. Pleasure and love swirled around his consciousness until Sylvi was the only one in his world of existence.

  She did not tear her eyes from his. Instead she gazed up at him with the same quiet intensity, the connection between them deeper than just the joining of their bodies. It drew his pleasure to dizzying heights and staved off his need to burst.

  “Ian,” she whispered softly.

  He pushed into her, deeper than before, and held himself there for a moment, reveling in her powerful grip and the embrace of her pleasure. She exhaled in a moan.

  He let his hands glide over her beautiful body, the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist. He pulled out and thrust deep and long once more, he flexed his hips forward and his stomach tightened. He caught her bottom in his hands, round and firm, and thrust hard and fast, letting the friction between them build to something wild and unstoppable.

  Ian’s body was on fire, hot and swollen and ready to explode.

  Sylvi’s moans of pleasure became longer, more pit
ched, more breathless. Her eyes widened and she cried out. The delicious grip around Ian’s cock squeezed again and again with the powerful waves of her release.

  He let go of his control, and he untethered. Desire washed over him, and his seed rushed into her in euphoric pulses. Their gazes remained locked through it all, from the heat of passion to the gentle cooling of their bodies while their breaths caught as one.

  Ian pulled out of her and lowered himself to gently lay at the side of her good arm. “I love ye, Sylvi.” He craned his head and kissed her mouth, a chaste kiss after the explosive desire they’d just shared.

  She took a breath to speak, but he put a finger to her lips. “Ye dinna need to say anything.”

  His heart could not handle her protests now. He wanted her to remember this night, for them both to relive it in their minds in flashing memories of heat and bliss the following day and so many more thereafter. He wanted her to love him because of who he was, and not the pleasure he gave her.

  She wriggled closer to him, her bad arm carefully stationary, and he pulled her against him.

  He wanted to talk, to ask her questions about herself, to see what she’d been like as a child, what her favorite foods were, all the things he usually asked the lasses after sex to pass the time. Only this time, he truly wanted to know.

  His mind dragged slowly over the many questions popping up, but exhaustion kept his mouth closed. Satisfaction laid a heavy cloak over his body. Sylvi curled her leg around his and laid her head against his chest.

  The clean scent of rosemary wafted from her hair. He breathed deep, savoring the delicate scent, cherishing her and what they’d shared.

  At least he had this moment to look back on, this one glorious moment where he finally felt like he’d found home, even if all this had been for naught. Which he desperately hoped was not the case, for in trying to lure Sylvi into loving him, he found himself falling deeper and completely in love with her.

  •••

  Sylvi listened to the steady pounding of Ian’s heartbeat beneath her cheek. Her body still hummed with the aftereffects of their incredible joining. While she had been resistant to losing the wildness of their rutting, the way he had pleased her this time was indescribable.

  And, if she were being honest, he’d been right in being gentle. Even with such care, the pain in her arm had flared up with their motions. A discomfort worth the trade for such pleasure.

  He had loved every inch of her body. He’d made her feel beautiful and cared for in a way she’d never thought possible. Even still, after it had all stopped and he lay sleeping beneath her, she could not get his touch from her mind, nor his words of affection.

  His praise glowed warm in her heart and left the rest of her softer and more relaxed than she’d been in far too long.

  She briefly parried with the thought of how the night would have gone had she not come back in the room. If she’d fled the inn as she’d been so tempted to do.

  The hollowness inside would have consumed her. She would have been alone with the memories haunting her, surrounded by the dead, when she’d been made to feel so alive by the living. For she did feel alive, and she was not alone. She still had purpose, and she had a partner who would help her track down those who may have also been slain by Reginald.

  She nestled her face against the warmth of his chest, and the downy prickle of his hair rasped against her cheek. All of her wanted to be as close to him as possible, to bask in the exhilarated hope he’d given her.

  She loved the heat of his body against hers and the way his jests were often said at just the right moment to bring a smile to her face when she might otherwise have fallen to anger.

  She couldn’t imagine him not being in her life, not having him nearby to discuss tactics and ideas.

  She loved him.

  Her breath caught at the realization. It was more than her reaction to the fear he might have died, he was right—she’d chosen him over her vengeance. She loved him even before he had so carefully loved her tonight.

  She kissed his naked chest and spoke softly into the silence of the room. “I can’t imagine my life without you.” Her heart pattered a little faster, scared and excited all at once to test aloud the words resonating in her heart. “I love you, Ian.”

  Chapter 28

  Sylvi woke to the steady, deep pain in her arm. The mix of herbs Kyle had made the night before had worn off and left her with a blaze of agony She shifted to ease some of the pressure from her arm and opened her eyes.

  Ian was propped up beside her on his elbow, gazing down at her.

  “Were you watching me?” she asked.

  He grinned. “Do ye no’ like it?”

  “Seems like it would be boring.” She tried to ignore the ache in her arm and let her eyes drift closed again into the caress of sleep.

  “No’ when it’s ye I’m staring at.” He ran a hand over her cheek. “I love seeing all the beautiful contours of yer face, the way ye look almost soft when ye sleep.”

  She wrinkled her nose at being called soft and squinted an eye open.

  He playfully rolled his eyes. “I know ye’re no’ soft. Ye just look it.” He trailed a finger down her jaw. “Sweet.”

  Sylvi opened her eyes and scoffed, regardless of the smile creeping over her lips. “I’m not sweet.”

  “To me ye are.” He inclined his head. “And I heard ye last night.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “When ye said ye love me.” He grinned like a lad who’d gotten away with something when he ought to have been punished.

  Heat scorched hot in her cheeks.

  “First ye say ye love me, and now ye’re blushing.” Ian leaned over her and placed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Ye know how to make a man feel appreciated, lass.”

  She smirked. He knew very well that was not her intent. “Has anyone ever told you you’re arrogant?”

  “All the time.” He settled his chin on his hand. “How does yer arm feel?”

  Sylvi cast a dismayed glance at her arm laying immobile at her side. “In a lot of pain,” she admitted.

  “I’ll be right back.” Ian carefully shifted off the bed and pulled his léine over his head.

  Without a care to being nearly naked, he slipped from the room and returned moments later with a cup in hand. “Kyle was already awake and seeing to Percy. He figured ye’d need this and already had it at the ready.”

  Ian helped her to a sitting position and passed her the acrid scented tincture. She gritted her teeth and swallowed it down, eager for the effects to warm through her body and calm the blaze of pain.

  Ian settled onto the bed and gazed at her. “What were ye like as a girl?”

  She passed the empty cup to him, and her light mood slipped behind a cloud.

  “Before all of it,” he said. “Ye grew up too fast. I want to know the kind of girl ye were when ye were young, before the fighting and vengeance and death.”

  Sylvi riffled through her thoughts the way one might through old clothes. What had she been like as a girl?

  The question was so simple, but the answer so out of her grasp. Her immediate memories started when her family had been attacked. Surely there were more before then. She had flashes of her father periodically. His large hands and the impossibly fragile jewelry he created. But what else?

  She closed her eyes, and sunlight filled her mind.

  Einar laughed beside her on the floor, his baby squeals so alight with joy, they made everyone in their small, one-room home smile. His cheeks were rosy, and his blue eyes danced with delight. Her mother held him in her lap, with both other girls sitting at her feet, working on their sewing. Father had just come into the house with a wrapped parcel.

  He held it up as if it were a prize. “We’ll have meat tonight.”

  “Meat is too expensive.” Mor’s worried expression did not in any way diminish her fair beauty.

  Sunlight played over her
hair and made it sparkle like pale gold. She looked like a princess there by the fire in her simple dress. If she wore the gowns of the court ladies at market, she’d be the most beautiful one of them all.

  “Do it again, Sylvi,” Alva said.

  “I din’t know what ye’re talking about.” Sylvi buffed her nails with great exaggeration on her sleeve.

  “Aye, ye do,” Inka said. “Please.”

  Einar looked up at her, his eyes wide with ready anticipation.

  Sylvi stuck out her tongue and curled it upward to touch the tip of her nose. Her brother’s face blossomed into a smile. She crossed her eyes. Laughter squealed out from his throat and brought a wave of it from the rest of her family.

  “Ah, my Sylvi.” Her father strode past with his treasure and ruffled her hair. “Always so playful.”

  “I was playful.” The warmth of the memory bathed her soul in an unexpected but beautiful light. “I had a brother, Einar. He had the most wonderful laugh, and I would do anything to make him squeal with joy.”

  She looked down at Ian and stuck out her tongue, letting it curl up to touch the tip of her nose, then crossed her eyes.

  Ian chuckled. When she relaxed her eyes, she found him staring up at her. “Ye know, ye’re actually pretty good at humor when ye do it.”

  Sylvi smiled and rolled her eyes. “Thank you.”

  Ian studied her. “I could see ye being playful.” He ran a hand down her cheek, and the lightness of the mood shifted to a more comfortable intimacy. “And kind, and loving.”

  “I haven’t thought of that little girl in so long,” Sylvi confessed. “I never let myself remember any of those happy memories. Thinking of them was too painful.”

  He nodded in understanding. “Reginald and his men are dead, and ye’re no longer a lass. Nor are ye alone.” He stroked her hair, and pleasure tingled over her scalp. The muscles of his arm bulged with the simple act. “Maybe ye should remember again.”

  Sylvi stared down at the rumpled bedclothes. Perhaps he was right, remembering the joy of her family would help ease the weight of her grief.